Portrait of a Victor
by sponsormusings
Summary: Peeta Mellark, photographer for the Capitol, has been tasked with travelling to District 12 to photograph Panem's latest Victor, Katniss Everdeen. But a hidden secret and an unexpected chemistry changes both their lives in ways they couldn't have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**This first chapter was originally a submission for Day 7 - Envy, for Prompts in Panem round four _Seven Deadly Sins_, on Tumblr.**

* * *

The hum of the hovercraft was subtle, a soft drone that wasn't unpleasant - he was used to it by now. Travelling across Panem on a regular basis had desensitised him from most of the idiosyncrasies of flying, had made the thrill of the feeling of lifting into the air, the slight jump he'd always used to feel in his stomach, all but disappear.

The flight itself had been smooth so far, uneventful. He appreciated the fact that the weather was fine despite the dark and foreboding clouds that surrounded them, because the last thing he wanted right now was to be airsick. He needed to be smart, professional, and he certainly didn't need the faint taste and smell of vomit lingering when he arrived.

He studied the small communication device that fit in the palm of his hand, outlining his schedule for the next four weeks. Meet, and photograph, the Victor known as Katniss Everdeen. Follow her, capture her in her natural environment, show District 12 in as positive light as possible, and then follow her progress along the Victory Tour trail. There was no question - his images, his pictures during this time had to be perfect. This was his big break, after three years of agreeing to work with the production crew who travelled to District 4 for their annual Reaping. His hard work, persistence, tenacity and talent had paid off. Peeta Mellark was no longer small time; now he was Peeta Mellark, photographer for the Presidential office. And he was going to meet the woman who had mesmerised him from the first time he'd seen her.

_He hadn't been able to take his eyes off the screen of his comm device as she'd volunteered for her sister, her grey eyes wide and shocked, her dark hair mussed by the frantic blonde girl who wouldn't let go._

_He'd watched, his breath caught in his throat, as she was carried in a chariot of flames, its fiery orange and yellow and red fingers twisting around her body, even as they reached out for him through the screen, twirling and tangling around his heart until he knew he was a goner._

He'd spent the next 6 months working every possible hour of every day, desperate to land this assignment, and when Cressida had given him the good news a month ago, he knew it wasn't by chance. He was meant to go to District 12. He was meant to do this job. He was meant to meet Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

He stepped from the Hovercraft, declining an escort from the Co-Pilot to her home in Victor's Village. It was only at the end of the street, he reasoned, and his camera equipment wasn't heavy. He'd grown up carrying bags of flour around, after all, at the artisan bakery his parents ran in the most fashionable quarter in the Capitol.

The air smelt different in this part of Panem. In the Capitol, the air was heavy, full of scents that were foreign and fake - musky perfume, artificially grown flowers, the powders and paints and inks that decorated citizens' bodies. He'd always hated it, had found it cloying and suffocating. Here, it was light, fresh, somehow the scent of grass lingering even though his feet crunched over layers of snow. He envied them that - the open spaces, the crisp air, the sun that seemed so much brighter and real here. He supposed it might be different in the poorer parts of the town - where he knew Katniss Everdeen had grown up - with a thin layer of coal dust permeating the air, but he wasn't here to photograph that. That had been Katniss Everdeen, resident of the Seam, daughter of Alice and James Everdeen. Now she was Katniss Everdeen, resident of Victor's Village, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. And _that_ was who he was here to photograph.

Peeta hitched the strap of his camera case more securely onto his shoulder, eyeing the ground warily - he wasn't used to weather like this in the Capitol, where their streets would be lucky to have a millimetre of snow dusting their street before it was discreetly swept away. And this camera was worth more than his life, Cressida had reminded him on more than one occasion before he'd departed. So he was even more careful than usual as he made his way under the fanciful wrought iron sign that announced his arrival in the Capitol designed part of town.

The street ahead of him was barren, lifeless, a sea of white and grey. He was surprised, to say the least. He knew the village had at least 4 residents now - Katniss, her mother and sister, and Haymitch Abernathy, the drunk and laughing stock of the Capitol that _everyone_ had heard of. But, as a cool wind swept past played havoc with his blonde waves and made him hug his pale blue jacket closer to his body, he didn't expect it to feel _dead_.

Of course, that's exactly how he felt when he reached the edge of the path leading to the Everdeen's home and found the Mockingjay herself guarding the door, her arms folded and lips formed in a perfect scowl. He'd never seen a more piercing and hate-filled gaze in his life.

He wondered if this was going to be a harder assignment than he'd first thought.

* * *

Primrose Everdeen was more welcoming than her sister, which wasn't a hard feat to accomplish. They were polar opposites in every possible way, except maybe for their obvious love for the other.

He realised Prim, as she'd insisted on being called, might be a bigger ally through all of this than he first thought.

Conversation was stilted as they sat in the Everdeen's sitting room, delicate china cups balanced on their laps. Katniss had elected to stand by the fireplace, and didn't utter a word, her arms folded across her chest and her tea cooling in her untouched cup. He wasn't sure what it said of him that he found the heat of her glare so surprisingly tempting.

"So in short, Mrs Everdeen," he finished, as he placed his cup back on the smooth wooden coffee table, "I'm here to trail Katniss for a few days. The stylists and crew will be here the day the train is due to leave and I'm certain they will capture some more stylised images. But the Capitol loves their Victors, and they can never have enough - they're always curious about their everyday lives. That's why I'm here. Basically, I'm just looking to photograph the three of you in your natural environment, very casual, very laid back." He laughed as Prim's eyes lit up. "Mostly Katniss of course, but the two of you as well, if you'll allow it."

He heard Katniss snort, and glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "Like you need our permission anyway. You'll do it regardless," she snapped, her silver eyes icy and cold. He heard Alice Everdeen's sharp intake of breath and held a hand up in her direction, never taking his eyes off the fiery woman in front of him.

"You're right," he acquiesced. "I'll take photos of you regardless, Katniss, because as Victor, it's your duty. Out of respect for your family, however, I will ask them. They can say no, I have no problems with that." She eyed him sceptically, and he couldn't blame her. Peeta knew what she saw when she looked at him. But he, unlike so many in the Capitol, understood that there was something inherently wrong with the games, that it was something no-one should have to endure. That's why he was here.

But in the meantime, he had a job to do and bills to pay.

"So I'll only ask once, and I won't bother your family again if the answer is no. Will you allow it, Katniss?" He waited for her to argue, as he expected her to; he'd done his homework after all. But he watched, fascinated, as her fingers clutched tightly against the polished ledge of the fireplace, her knuckles pale against her olive skin and the dark wood. They stared at each other intently, gazes locked, neither willing to back down. Her jaw was set, but he could see the slight quiver in her chin. Her eyes were furious and cold, but lost. Then confused, and he could see the way her foot began to tap, the way her fingers flexed and strained. He felt the wave of awkwardness settle over him, and wondered how and when the shift between them had occurred, how on earth it had crept up on him so unexpectedly. And if Alice and Prim noticed it, or whether it was only blindingly obvious to him. It crackled like the fire in the grate, a snapping and sparking he hadn't really expected to be so fierce. Being preoccupied by someone from afar was one thing. Having their eyes bore into you while you suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe was another.

"Fine. I'll allow it," she finally snapped, and looked away, her cheeks flushed, awkwardly clearing her throat. He looked back at the friendlier Everdeen's, and smiled, determined to make it as easy as possible despite the twisting of his gut and the fire in his blood.

"So," he asked. "Who wants to be first?"

* * *

_Peeta Fucking Mellark._

She could hear Prim's giggles from the kitchen, as she and their mother obviously played to the camera. It was absurd, ridiculous, and a thousand other adjectives she couldn't even begin to think of. All she'd wanted was a final four days of peace before she was paraded about the country, waving and smiling while she continued to splinter and die on the inside. Instead she had some pretty boy from the Capitol invading her space, _their_ space, with his blonde hair that perfectly framed his chiselled cheeks and jaw, and the eyes that were as bright and stunning as the sapphire jewels she'd seen in the Capitol. As he was surprisingly free of the usual Capitolite adornments, she supposed these obviously fake blue eyes were his concession to whatever current fashion was popular.

She threw herself on her bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing she were anywhere but here. No, not anywhere, she clarified to herself. She wished she were in the woods, where she could think and feel, and was the only place she could feel remotely like _her_, not a puppet. But while Peeta was here - _and what kind of damned name was Peeta anyway?_ - she would have to stay out of the woods. After all, that was the _last_ place she needed to be photographed, the last place the Capitol needed to know about.

But it was the one place that was still, undoubtedly, hers.

She heard a shutter snap, and with a start she sat up quickly, glancing towards the door. He stood there, leaning against the jam, the fancy silver camera clutched in his hands as he lowered it from his face. "Sorry," he said, though there was very little apology in his tone. "I had to. It was the first time I've seen you off guard today."

Pushing herself off the bed, she scowled; stalking over to her cupboard and yanking out the ancient jacket she refused to give up. "What do you want?"

He shrugged, holding his hands up in a motion of peace offering. "I think we got off on the wrong foot-"

"Oh really?" She retorted. She couldn't help it, it was automatic. She'd felt her back go up, her teeth set on edge the minute she'd seen him trudging up the snow lined street, his blonde hair and blue jacket like a beacon in a darkened sea.

Or so she imagined. She'd never seen the sea. Not yet, anyway.

He sighed. "Look, I'm aware you only found out about me coming last week and I know you would prefer to spend this time with your family. But if you just work with me, we can make this as painless as possible, it doesn't have to be hard."

"Nothings going to be as hard as that arena was," she spat, and she watched his face harden. Katniss wondered if she'd gone too far, if she'd overstepped the mark. He _was _from the Capitol after all, and she'd already done enough to put President Snow and the Gamemakers offside. But she had to watch with admiration as he took one deep breath and schooled his features back into an unreadable mask.

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested suddenly, as though she hadn't snapped at him for about the tenth time already. She stared at him, to see his angle, but all she could see was those eyes and the firm set of his jaw.

"Fine," she replied after a long beat of silence, and brushed past him, stomping down the stairs.

If she felt a shiver run up her arm as she did so, it was surely only static electricity from her jacket coming into contact with his.

"Mom, Prim, we're going out," she called from the back door, as she yanked her boots from the closet and tugged them on her feet, not even bothering to lace them. She didn't wait for an answer as she stalked out the door, or for Peeta to catch up.

She trudged over the snow, her feet moving surprisingly nimbly over the sodden ground. She could hear his heavy footsteps and heaving of breath as he tried to catch up with her.

"Katniss, wait," he called. "I have to be careful with this camera equipment, it's expensive."

"Don't care," she tossed over her shoulder. She didn't know what it was, but everything about him made her want to bite his head off every time he spoke, while her stomach twisted into nervous knots. She supposed she should be more polite, more agreeable, as was befitting a Victor. But they were two things she rarely was. And if he was so offended by her behaviour, he would have called her on it by now.

Or called a Peacekeeper.

So she figured she was safe.

She continued to make her way towards the centre of town, but at the last minute circumvented around it. She was going to take him to the meadow. She didn't want him in the Seam, where it still felt like home and he had no right to be, and she didn't want him in Town, where nosy busybodies would likely see him and make a fuss.

No, if she had to do this, she was going to dictate it on her terms, and the meadow it was going to be.

As she reached the meadow - covered in snow, not a strip of green or wildflower in sight - she turned to him and shrugged her shoulders. While he wasn't huffing and puffing - for a Capitol bore, he was at least a little fit - he was definitely glowering at her as he drew closer.

"Where the hell are we?" He snapped, and she couldn't help the perverse satisfaction she felt at his annoyance.

"My natural environment," she replied simply. She sat down on a large rock that sat on the edge of the meadow and looked up at him. "Take your photos then."

He sighed, and glanced around him. "Katniss, the idea for these is that I capture _you_. Not a posed photo of you. You, while you aren't aware. Like your mom and Prim. Yes, they knew I was there, but they didn't pose for me. And I don't want that from you either."

"What _do_ you want from me, then?"

She watched as his throat bobbed, as he bit down on his bottom lip and his fingers clenched around the camera. And despite the frigid winter air that surrounded her, she felt that _thing_ again, the thing that had all but sucked the life out of the room back in Victor's Village.

Katniss wanted to drag her gaze away, wanted to look away and dismiss him. But she couldn't tear her eyes from his. The silence was deafening, and stretched on endlessly. She wasn't sure how long they stared at each other, had no idea how long everything around her stopped. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours; she had no idea. Her heart raced, a sprint that made it hard to breathe, hard to think.

What the _hell_ was this?

She yanked her gaze away and shook her head, scowling - her best line of defence. "Will you just answer me?" She demanded as she stared at the ground.

"I just want your photo, Katniss." The reply was soft. "The sooner you relax and act like you normally would, the better off we'll be."

"Fine." With a shrug and a curt nod, she pulled herself up off the rock and stood in the middle of the meadow. Without her bow and arrow, and her woods, she really had nothing else to give.

The photos, she determined, were going to be the most boring the Capitol had ever seen.

* * *

She was the most infuriating subject he'd ever had to capture.

She was the most annoying subject he'd ever had to capture.

She was the most incredible subject he'd ever had to capture.

He'd tried, he really had, over the last three days to get her defences down, to get her to at least talk to him. Talking to her during this time was just as important - if not _more_ - than actually taking her picture. But she was as stubborn as she was prickly, and she shut down any attempt at a conversation. So he'd simply trailed her, not saying a word and just waiting for a _moment_.

He'd captured her in her snow-packed front yard, mid-argument with Haymitch. He'd snapped her laughing as she watched Prim milk an obstinate Lady, and as she'd longingly looked towards the trees behind her home as she sat on the back porch with the mayor's daughter.

But he still didn't have the shot he wanted, the one who confirmed to him who Katniss Everdeen _was_.

He exited the house at the end of the street in the Village, the one that had been allocated for Capitol employees during any official visits during the Mockingjay's 'reign'. He'd left her alone while she spent some time with her family, had agreed to a reprieve from being her shadow.

At first he'd taken the time to catch up on some correspondence, to confirm his status, and how the assignment was progressing. He'd scrolled through updates, had read an article in _Capitol Couture_ where Cinna outlined his progress on her outfits for the tour. But he'd still spent most of the 2 hours thinking about her. Being this close to Katniss had done nothing but strengthen his interest in her.

He thought about how strong she was, how aloof she was, how oblivious she was to the effect she had on those around her. Prim came alive, and even the quiet, staid Alice seemed to be a different person in her presence. Haymitch was protective, his Seam grey eyes staring at Peeta beadily until he'd had to avert his gaze guiltily, feeling as though the Mentor could see every impure thought he'd ever had of the dark-haired girl over the last six months. The school friend, Madge, who seemed more like Prim in looks and countenance but could exchange a wicked grin with Katniss that hinted at a joke they'd shared that no one else needed to know. And her _friend_, the tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired man who was introduced as her best friend, and looked at her a little too much and a little too closely.

The intense jealousy that filled Peeta was overpowering, swallowing him whole and leaving him annoyed and frustrated. And it was ridiculous really; they were just friends.

Apparently.

It wasn't even Gale alone that made him envious, though. It was the tight, close-knit bonds she had, this support group that would do what they could to protect her. She didn't realise it, was quite oblivious to it, but it was obvious to him. Katniss had offered her life to save her sister. These people would do what they could to keep her safe now. And that was something he'd never had, and probably never would. His family was typically Capitol - all show, no substance, and very removed. They didn't need him.

He trudged up the front steps of the Everdeens, annoyed at himself for letting his thoughts roam to a place he normally tried to avoid, and pressed the doorbell that played a tune whose name was but a long forgotten memory. And waited. And waited.

And waited.

He tested the knob and it turned swiftly in his hand, the door opening onto the darkened, silent hall. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, his feet padding across the thick carpet that muffled any and all sound.

There wasn't a single noise in the house.

He continued to make his way down the hall, past the sitting room, past the formal dining room and the library, until he was in the kitchen. He moved upstairs, peering into bedrooms and bathrooms, and had to fight the urge to spend longer in Katniss' room. There was no-one here. The house was empty.

She'd given him the slip.

With a barely restrained curse, he stormed out the front door. It was ridiculous. He was just here to do his job. All she had to do was let him take a few photos - as was her duty - and then they'd be on the tour, and he would just be observing her from afar. All he'd needed was her cooperation for the 4 damned days he was here; after that, she was free to be as stubborn as she damn well wanted to be.

"Hey kid!"

He looked up to see the old mentor leaning against one of his porch posts in the house across the street, one hand shoved in a pocket, the other clutching a flask.

"What?" Peeta snapped as he crossed to the property fence.

"Ooo-hoo!" Haymitch hooted. "What's got your Capitol panties in a twist?"

"Don't speak to me like I'm Effie Trinket, Haymitch."

"You're no Effie Trinket, kid, you ain't showing me no manners right now. What's up your ass?"

Peeta glared at him, then realised maybe the old man could help. "Where is she?"

"Where's who?"

"Katniss," Peeta replied through clenched teeth. "I'm here to see Katniss, and she's not home. Where is she?"

Haymitch stroked his chin lazily, his rheumy grey eyes dancing with what some might call merriment. Others would know better. "Well, I know Alice and Blondie went on down the Seam - the oldest Thornhill girl went into labor just this afternoon. Katniss may have gone with them….." he trailed off, eyes darting off to the left, then right, then back to him again, and Peeta instinctively knew Katniss wasn't in the Seam.

"I'm here to do a job, Haymitch," he replied which, he knew in this instance, was the right reply to have. "Do you want me to report you, as well as her, for not following Capitol directive?"

"Woo-hoo, _Capitol directive_," Haymitch echoed. "Sounds so _official_."

With a roll of his eyes, Peeta turned on his heel, but Haymitch's voice stopped him before he could get too far.

"You're not what I expected, you know."

Peeta turned, eyebrow raised, trying to keep his temper banked. "Oh? And what did you expect?"

"I didn't expect a kid," came the short reply. Peeta shrugged.

"I'm 22. Old enough to be a professional."

"You must be good at your job then."

"I am."

"They must have a lot of faith in you."

"They do. I've earned it."

Their conversation was loaded, though anyone listening would be none the wiser. Haymitch shrugged, then took a pull from the flask. "Might as well wait it out, kid, no point huffing about. She'll be back... soon enough."

Something in the mentor's tone tipped him off, and his stomach dropped to his feet in realisation; he had to fight not to clench his jaw in annoyance. _He should have known - she was out with Gale. That damned friend was going to be the death of him. _With a curt nod of his head, he stalked back to his lodgings and booted up his secondary comm device. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for her - he had people to talk to, things to take care of.

* * *

She'd been gone for too long, she knew it. She'd known it was risky, knew she could blow her only remaining entry into the woods by doing it. But the world felt like it was crushing her, pulling and stretching her inside out. So she'd snuck into the woods with Gale, had bagged two squirrels that, while not exactly robust, would be enough to make a decent stew. Had been able to breathe a little bit easier with her bow in her hands.

Being as far away from Peeta Mellark as possible also helped. The man set her on edge, made her chest feel tight and her stomach churn. But she'd taken too long, had taken advantage of her escape. She knew he'd ask her questions, would probably be pissed.

So she was surprised when she turned the final corner into Victor's Village and saw him crouched by the edge of the Capitol house, camera held to his face as he focused it on a twisting vine that reached above his head and skirted along the trellis of the second floor. She stayed still, and silent, as she watched him, mesmerised by the concentration on his face, the way the tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he bit on it absently, the way a single lock of hair fell across his forehead. She was surprised at the tug in her belly, at the twisting nerves that climbed through her from fingertip to toe as she watched him. She imagined whatever he was photographing was like her hunted prey; it had her undivided attention, it was all she thought of, cared of, until it was hers.

Like it or not, after 3 days Peeta Mellark no longer just annoyed her, or frustrated her. He fascinated her.

He shifted on the balls of his feet, and stood with his back to her, a long line that tapered from wide shoulders to a slim waist. The jacket he wore didn't disguise it, and she assumed that's what Capitol designers went for. But it made her curious. Did Gale have a back like that? she mused, trying to picture it. She'd never bothered to look.

She'd never really wanted to.

Katniss thought of all the ways Peeta had relentlessly tried to strike up conversations with her over the last few days, how he'd bestowed that charming smile upon everyone, how Prim had become hopelessly enamoured. How he'd silently studied her, and she'd felt the flutter just below her breastbone whenever she caught him. And despite her best intentions to ignore the man from the Capitol, she found herself weakening, her resolve crumbling around her. In many ways, he reminded her of Cinna. From the Capitol, but not _of_ the Capitol. He was one of them, but he wasn't.

She watched as he straightened and stretched, hooking the camera strap securely around his neck. In one swift move he'd climbed up onto the railing that surrounded the porch and pulled himself up until he was sitting on it's shingled roof, his legs dangling off the edge. He raised the camera again, and even from this far away, in the still of the late afternoon and as the sun began to set behind the mountains, she could see the pure, unadulterated happiness of what he did on his face. She was jealous that he still had that - his freedom, his happiness, the life he was used to. She wanted him.

_What?_

She was so taken aback by the thought she choked on her own breath.

But by then she couldn't look away, couldn't dislodge the thoughts of him that had suddenly embedded themselves in her head. It was ridiculous. Falling for someone had never been in her plans. She had no intention of getting married, having her children contribute slips of white paper into the reaping bowl. Didn't want to run the risk of becoming her mother. Didn't want to risk her heart, or her sanity. But being attracted to someone, a virtual stranger, after only three days?

Unacceptable. Beyond ridiculous. Impossible.

_Highly damned likely_.

So she stayed, and watched, via the cover of the snow covered greenery, as he sat or stood at various angles on the porch roof, taking what she could only assume were pictures of the Village, of her home. She wondered what it would be like for him to look at _her_ with such concentration, such open happiness. He held the camera so delicately, as if it was the most important item in the world. She wondered what it would be like to be held that way, what it would feel like to have his hands on her. What it would feel like to have his arms pull her to him, feel his broad back under her fingertips. Lust curled in her belly, twisting and turning until she was full of knots, needy and wanting and _frustrated that she was feeling; feeling this way, feeling this at all._

_Feeling want and need and desire for someone from the damned Capitol._

She whirled, and stomped away towards her house, hating every thought in her head.

But hating even more that she _liked_ having them in her head.

* * *

He'd known she was there.

He'd caught her out of the corner of his eye. While she'd shown to be quite the huntress in her games, swift and quiet and nimble, he saw more than he let on. And he'd seen her as he'd pivoted to take in the orange streaks of sunset as it curled over the mountains in the distance.

She'd been silent, but it had been her eyes that burned into him as he'd continued to frame and adjust his filter and click when the image he saw felt right. It was like a slow heat, like that of a summer sun rather than the quick lick of a flame, that overtook him, that all but consumed him. It made sense.

She _was_ the Girl on Fire, after all.

He didn't acknowledge her, didn't show that he knew she was there. He was intrigued, intrigued enough that the last element of anger and envy he'd been holding onto all afternoon ebbed away. He didn't know why she was there, or why she stayed so long, or why her gaze was so intent on him.

But he smiled to himself as he heard her huff, the snow crunching under her feet as she spun on her heel.

And he turned to capture her, a lone hunter stalking down the middle of a deserted village.

* * *

"These past few days have gone so quickly!" Prim commented, as she passed the bowl heaped with steaming potatoes to Peeta. He smiled as he accepted it from her; Katniss rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"It has. I'm very honoured you allowed me to stay for this meal."

"You didn't give us much of a choice," Katniss retorted around a mouthful of beans. Effie's protestations of manners had fallen on deaf ears.

"Oh, Katniss, don't be silly. Peeta's been wonderful to have here. He's so different from everyone else I've seen from the Capitol!" Prim admonished.

"That's only because my skin colour isn't green," he grinned in reply, and Katniss scoffed. She couldn't help it. Before, she'd instinctively been obnoxious because she didn't like him. Now she was obnoxious because she _did_ like him.

They'd had this meal planned for months - a family dinner before Katniss undertook her trip back to the Capitol. It was a full house, with the Everdeens, Haymitch, the Hawthornes and Madge all in attendance - those she was closest to, those who had been there for her upon her return. Peeta had been sitting alone on his front porch when Prim had spotted him, and enthusiastically extended an invitation.

Katniss would have reneged on the offer if she'd known about it.

But the night had started out well enough, she supposed. Hazelle and Alice had been happily putting the finishing touches on the meal, Peeta and Haymitch had been whispering furiously on the back porch - almost looking guilty when she'd interrupted them at one stage - while she and Prim and the youngest Hawthornes watched as Madge soundly trumped Gale in a game of chess.

Then the meal had begun, Peeta's blue eyes stared at her from across the table, and everything had annoyed her from there.

"Everyone from the Capitol is the same, Prim, regardless of whether they're green or not," Gale muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. Haymitch snorted into his potatoes, while Prim glowered at him. Hazelle and Alice looked at each other in horror.

"I would have to disagree with you, Gale," she heard Peeta speak up lightly. "But that your opinion and you are welcome to it."

"Good."

"Good."

"Good."

"This is hilarious," Haymitch laughed. He glanced at Katniss. "Mighty good company you keep, sweetheart."

With a groan of frustration, she pushed back her chair, throwing her napkin on her plate. "This is a waste of time. I'm going outside." Katniss stalked out of the room and out the back door, not even bothering to close it behind her. She could hear the scraping of chair legs and a murmur as her mother started to get up, before Hazelle quietly told her to let her be. She kept walking, walking until she'd reached the end of her yard, where the small woods that separated Victor's Village from the Mayor's property began. She wished she'd grabbed her coat against the chill of the evening, but she'd been so intent of getting away from Peeta, from Haymitch, from Gale, she hadn't thought otherwise.

She couldn't believe she was wasting her last night before the Victory Tour sulking beside the wood.

"You don't want to catch a cold." His smooth voice broke through the still of the night, and she felt the heavy weight of her winter coat as it was draped across her shoulders. She half turned to him, and glared.

"Why did you get the honours?" She asked bluntly.

"I told them it was my job to get you in one healthy piece to the stylists tomorrow. Gale practically shot daggers at me, but he couldn't very well argue on that point."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't even understand what you mean," she sighed, reluctantly slipping her arms through the sleeves and shrugging the jacket on properly. "Gale always looks like that."

He glanced down at her, surprised, then a small smile tugged at his mouth. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"What?" she asked defensively.

Peeta shook his head, chuckling softly. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll find out one day."

"Tell me what you mean," Katniss demanded.

"No," he replied firmly.

She felt anger bubbling up inside her, frustrating spilling over, and she reached out, pushing him in the shoulder. He hardly budged. "_Tell me_."

"If you don't know, Katniss, I'm not going to tell you."

"I'm your damned Victor, Peeta Mellark, tell me what I want to know."

She was surprised as she watched the anger spark and flare in his eyes. "So you're a Victor when it suits you, are you? You're not a Victor when I want a damned photo of you, but the minute you want your way, that's your excuse?" He yanked at the camera bag hanging - it seemed permanently - from his shoulder, pulling the camera from it and punching the button to turn it on. She wanted to remind him sarcastically to be careful because it was expensive, but something told her to keep her mouth shut.

He turned the camera towards her, the screen lit up for her to see - it was a picture he'd obviously taken. It was beautiful, really, a snow covered town that belonged in the old fairy tales her mother had told her as a child, remembered from her own grandmother. The sun just setting behind it, it's golden rays shining through the trees, hitting the glass windows of one of the homes so that a flash of light sparked on the left hand side of the picture. A lone person walked up the middle of the street, purpose and intent evident in their stride and ramrod posture. But that's what they were - alone. No-one else was left. It was just them.

And then she realised it was her.

She looked up, wide-eyed, as he snapped it closed again and shoved it back into the case. "You're as alone as you are in that picture, Katniss, and it doesn't need to be that way. You have a mother and sister that love you, a mentor that is protective and…..and a guy who loves you as well."

"Who?" Katniss said dumbly, though her throat constricted. She was afraid she knew what he was going to say, and it wasn't the person she wanted.

"Gale, Katniss," Peeta huffed out impatiently, and she cringed. "You don't need to be alone, you don't need to carry your burdens on your own. He'll be there for you. They all will. Stop shutting them out. You-"

She cut him off, pointed a finger into his chest. "You think you know me?! You know nothing about me. Burdens? Try carrying the burden of 23 other children dead because of me. Try carrying the knowledge that all I'm going to be doing for the next few weeks is facing the families of those kids, looking into their eyes as they _hate _me. Try carrying that, you asshole." Her voice broke, and she turned, storming off into the first depths of the trees. She hated the fact that he'd made her break, hated the fact that he'd made her feel, made her remember, made her picture Rue's face.

Hated the fact that she wanted_, _almost desperately needed,to share the burden. But with _him_, not Gale.

A hand encircled her wrist, turning her around, and she was face to face with those damn fake eyes again. "Let _me_ help you, then," he whispered imploringly.

Even though it was what she wanted to hear, she turned on her defences. "Why? So you can mock me? So you can go back to the Capitol and tell President Snow and all your friends how _weak_ the 'Mockingjay' is? Oh yes," she said bitterly, seeing the surprise in his eyes. "I've heard about them calling me that. All because of a pin. Imagine what they'd say if they saw their Victor now."

"I…." he trailed off, and fell silent. She was shocked. It was the first time she'd seen him at a loss for words.

"See?" she shook her head. "I told you so." She shook her hand free, but it seemed to awaken him from his stupor, and he reached up, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"No. No, you don't see, Katniss. I don't agree with everything the Capitol does. I may work for them, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Did I enjoy watching as you cried yourself to sleep at night after Rue died? Did I enjoy watching as you fought with the boy from two, worrying that you'd be hurt, that you'd die?" His voice, and eyes were wild, and she was taken aback at his words. "I was captivated by you the moment I saw you volunteer for Prim, the minute that chariot carried you into the Capitol. I've spent the last six months trying to get this assignment so I could come here, to see if you were real, to make sure you were ok, to find out….." he trailed off, and this time it was she who grabbed his wrist.

"To find out what?" she demanded. Panic and terror, real and uninvited clutched at her chest. _Where was he going with this?_

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "I just want to help. To...to be there for you."

The air was still around them, the woods quiet except for their breaths, hurried and fast, small puffs of cool smoke in the winter night.

Finally she sighed. "There's nothing you can do for me, Peeta. Go away. There's nothing more for you here. Just leave me alone."

Peeta dropped his hands from her shoulders, his eyes searching hers. He took one backwards step, then two, then turned and began to walk away. She cursed the hitch in her chest.

Then suddenly he was stalking back to her and his hands were on her face, in her hair, on her hips and his mouth was on hers, hot and wanting and needy and she couldn't catch her breath.

She didn't even want to.

She didn't argue, didn't put up a fight as he backed her up against a tree, its bark rough and uneven against her back, even through layers of clothing. It did nothing but heighten the sheer need and want that tore through her, that made her hands reach up and yank at the blonde hair at the nape of his neck, that made her hips involuntarily plunge towards his.

The moan that he echoed against her mouth shot straight to her core.

Peeta's hand slid up her waist and underneath her jacket, his fingers splaying over her ribs and the cotton shirt she wore. His fingertips brushed the underside of her breast, and she leaned into him more, trying to shift so that his hand would cover her, so her hips would align with his, to give some relief to the need that was ripping through her.

And then he did shift his hand, and his hips bumped against hers, and everything inside her exploded at such a simple change.

His tongue slid across her lips, encouraged her to open her mouth, for their tongues to tangle and possess. Even through her haze of lust, she felt inexperienced, unsure, but his moves seemed to guide her, seemed to show her instinctively what she needed to do. And with the soft whimpers he was eliciting, she knew he was as affected as she was, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She dragged her mouth away from his, as much to catch her breath as to look at him. They stood, breath coming quick and fast and shallow. His heart pounded against hers and everything inside her throbbed with need. And then she saw the light dim in his eyes, and the horror filter in. Her throat locked as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Katniss, we…..I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

The fury burned through her quicker than wildfire, her words snapping out before she could even think. "Of course. _Of course_. Not even a _Victor_ is good enough for someone from the Capitol. Fuck you, Peeta. Leading me on like that? I hate you. And everything you stand for. I should have known better. You're just like them. You're Capitol after all, you and your fake smile and your fake charm and your damned fake blue eyes."

"No! No, it's not like that at all!" His hand reached out for her again, but she yanked her arm out of his reach. The anger blazed in her eyes, and it was enough to make him hesitate.

"Get away from me," Katniss hissed, and took a step back. "I'm glad. Because I never wanted to like you in the first place. Prim is the only person I will ever love, ever care about, so thank you _so much_, for reminding me about that. Everything I do, is for Prim. Including this. You're dead to me, Peeta Mellark." With a final snarl, she turned, and ran into the woods.

She refused to look back.

* * *

He was restless, couldn't sleep. He just kept thinking of Katniss' face as they'd pulled out of the station at 12, as she'd raised a hand in farewell to the crowd, but he'd known it was really only for Prim. Prim was all that mattered.

She'd made that abundantly clear. But he supposed he'd deserved it, after what he'd done.

Peeta hadn't gone back inside the Everdeens the night before. It was best he let that lie, and had returned to his house, packing up his belongings, his equipment and comms devices. He'd swept everything down, leaving no trace of himself behind. He wanted it to be like he'd never been there at all. It was the least he could do after handling things so badly, and possibly screwing up the assignment entirely.

Cressida, not to mention Plutarch, was going to be bitterly disappointed. He wished he'd been able to tell her, wished he'd been able to share what his real motivation was. He'd needed to tell her. It didn't matter if it had ruined everything, if everything he'd worked towards had fallen apart. Being with her, always, was what mattered. He should have told her before he kissed her, because that had thrown him too much for a loop, and after that he hadn't been able to think straight. Then he'd blown it. Blown it all.

Whether Katniss had mentioned anything to her mentor or not, her behaviour towards him on the train hadn't been subtle. Peeta had felt the glares from her, from Haymitch, even from Effie, from wherever they were on the train - he'd eventually given up being in any of their presence, and had sequestered himself in his room, cataloguing his photos and documenting his trip. But eventually hunger had gnawed at his gut, and he'd ventured out when he was certain - or at least hoped - they would no longer be about. He was thankful to find the buffet car empty, but the table still piled with food.

Later, with his stomach full but his nerves still on edge, he moved from the car and wandered down the corridor back towards his room, catching the muffled sounds of a hologram soap opera in Effie's room, nothing but snores from Haymitch's. The purr of the train was different to a Hovercraft, and it unsettled him, didn't give him the same kind of comfort. It felt wrong being on here, and he wondered if this was how every single tribute had felt on their way to the Capitol.

The train jolted slightly, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, his nerves begin to hum. Something didn't feel right, something was wrong, something was-

"NO! NO!"

The scream pierced the air, and he broke out in a sprint down the corridor, not caring if he made a noise, not if someone was in there attacking Katniss. _What if Snow's plans had changed? What if someone had gotten here-_

He got to her door, pressing frantically at the button to open it. He was thankful it was unlocked, and as it slid open, he barrelled through, only to find her alone, thrashing in the sheets as they tangled around her body. Her back was bowed up off the bed, her cheeks stained with tears, sobs tearing from her throat. But she was asleep; her eyes clenched shut, her brow marred with lines.

He didn't even think as he took the two strides to her bed and gathered her in his arms. He didn't care what she'd said in her backyard, didn't think about the pure hatred that she'd all but thrown at him. The pain and agony in her cries overrode everything in his head.

"Katniss….shh….Katniss…..It's just a dream….shhh, wake up…." he said softly as he rocked her gently. She continued to moan a little, her hands clutching at the sheets, her feet pressing and kicking against the mattress. But within seconds, her eyes were wide and horrified, and she was pushing at him, pushing and shoving him away from her.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" she gasped, pulling herself into a sitting position, yanking her pillow against her stomach and gripping it tightly. Her eyes were wild, her hair tangled.

"You….you were screaming in your sleep," he muttered. "I thought you were being attacked, and…..I came in and you were here….." he trailed off as his cheeks reddened. He hadn't noticed until now the thin silk tank she wore, its strap hanging worryingly off her shoulder. He looked away.

"I'm fine," she snapped, gulping in a deep breath of air, her fingers pressing and flexing against the pillow. "Get out."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"_Now._"

The glowered at each other, a battle of wills.

* * *

She _hated _him being in here. She felt vulnerable, embarrassed, alone.

Rejected.

"Katniss, I'm not going anywhere," he said forcefully, but then his voice gentled, softened. "You're not fine. What were you dreaming about?"

She was quiet for a moment, regaining her breath as she stared blankly at the wall, her sweat matted hair sticking to her forehead, and the nape of her neck. When she spoke, she knew she sounded defeated. Because she was. "It wasn't a dream, Peeta. I don't have something as simple as dreams." When she looked back at him, her eyes were as empty as her voice. "But that's not what someone like you wants to hear, is it? You Capitol people don't care."

She watched his eyes flash in anger, but there it was again, that ability to bank it down. "No, Katniss, I _do_ care. Probably a little too much. More than I should. You mean more to me than you understand."

They were the right words to say, as the fire suddenly sparked back in her eyes. "After 4 days, Mellark?" she scoffed. "Oh no, that's right. I _captivated_ you from the start. Before we even met."

"Don't mock me," he snapped. He slid closer to her, reaching out and gripping her chin in his hand. "I meant _every_ word I said yesterday." By saying them he'd gone against every level of protocol with this assignment, broken every rule he'd agreed to uphold.

"But you don't understand," she replied, and she winced at the crack in her voice. "Nothing ….nothing is ever going to be the same for me. You say you want to know what I've been through? That you want to be there for me? You say you're sympathetic, that you don't agree with all the things the Capitol does? Then why don't you do something?" The desperation in her voice was palpable. "Why don't you do something?" she echoed, as the tears began to spill again.

"I….Katniss, if I could….I would…but…." He trailed off, and she glowered through the sheen covering her eyes, yanking her face away from his touch.

"Then fuck you, Peeta Mellark. Get out of my room, get out of my life. I already told you once, i don't want to have to tell you a third time. You have to take my photos for the rest of the trip, fine, take it from afar, but don't even-"

He cut her off, his arms gripping her shoulders and pulling her to him, his lips colliding with hers much as they had the day before. There was more desperation here, she could feel it. It was a mirror emotion of hers.

Their tongues tangled in a dance that they were both still new to, but felt like they'd been doing together forever. His fingers kneaded at the flesh of her arms, as hers reached for his shirt, gripping the cotton in her fists, tugging while she still sought reason.

And then she was in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face pressed to his skin. "Damn you, Peeta Mellark," she hissed. "I hate you. I wish I'd never met you. I wish you'd go away. I wish you'd stay with me."

She heard his throat catch, and a deep breath expelled; and she was afraid to look at him, prepared for him to break her all over again. She held her own breath as he cradled her head, as he rested his mouth against her ear.

"Katniss?" he said softly. She could hear the hesitance, the tremble in his voice.

"Yes?" She could barely get the word out.

"I'm part of a rebellion."

* * *

_A/N - Many thanks to Jeeno2, MalTease and Salanderjade for their advice, pre-reading, assistance with a title and their general awesomeness with helping me with this story, and over this PiP week._ _I couldn't have done it without you._

_This is for salanderjade, who said "remember a scene in Bridges of Madison County when she's watching him take photos?", and BOOM, idea. Thanks, lady. Happy birthday._


	2. Chapter 2

The brakes squealed like nails on a chalkboard, loud and grating, and in stark contrast to the smooth, repetitive sounds Katniss was used to hearing on the train.

She supposed the emergency brake didn't get yanked very often in the middle of nowhere.

She pressed a small button concealed in the silver panelling of the wall, her shaking hand causing her to miss half a dozen times before she connected and the exterior door slid open with a soft hiss. She stumbled out, her feet barely touching the steps, and landed on her knees in the grass.

_A rebellion_.

What did that even mean? What was he trying to say? Was Peeta on his own? Or was it all bullshit, and he had really been sent by President Snow to spy on her? She wouldn't put it past the evil bastard, still, months later, looking for a way to get even with her. He probably would never stop.

She felt the bile rise in her throat and gagged, but she held it back, swallowed despite its bitterness and the burning of the back of her throat. Being just outside the door, she was certain they would still be watching her, listening to her.

"Miss Everdeen, are you alright?" The prim, tight-lipped tones of one of the few non-Avox staff on the train came from behind her. She nodded her head, wiping her hand against her mouth and glancing over her shoulder at the man standing on the top step. His eyes were a golden yellow, his pin straight hair a vibrant shade of emerald green.

"I must have eaten too much at dinner and now I feel sick. I just needed the fresh air. Can I have a few moments?"

The man eyed her reproachfully before nodding once, and returning back inside. She breathed a sigh of relief, and crawled to her feet, stumbling towards the end of the train. She didn't even notice the change in season, how different this landscape was to 12. They hadn't even been travelling for a full day, but already the snow and sleet of 12 was a distant memory.

The late night air was still cool and crisp against her skin, but it was a relief from the way her blood felt like it was on fire, the way her brain refused to stop running at a million miles an hour. One minute his arms had been banded about her waist and her breath was hitching in her chest, the next she was yanking free, pulling on the emergency brake just outside her door and running down the corridor.

In the stillness of night, she could hear his footsteps across leaves and soft grass.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. It probably wasn't the best way to tell you." His voice was quiet, repentant, but still broke through her thoughts. She didn't look at him, she still wasn't sure how she felt, still wasn't entirely sure of what she believed. She waited for him to speak; after all, he was the one who had some explaining to do. She heard him clear his throat. "I've wanted to tell you from practically the minute I saw you. But I couldn't. It would have risked everything. I had to make sure first..."

Katniss sighed, dropping to her knees, fingers grasping at clumps of grass. "Make sure of what?"

"That you could do it." His voice was a whisper.

"Do what?" The silence that followed her question was heavy, pregnant with unspoken words and questions.

"Now isn't the time," Peeta finally replied. "Wait until we're there and I'll explain everything."

"In the middle of the Capitol?" Katniss snapped, finally turning and looking up at him. That damned camera case was still slung over his shoulder, the camera clasped firmly in his hand, and she watched as his eyes followed her gaze.

"I have to have it with me, Katniss," he said by way of explanation. "Impressions are everything. They'll be watching us, you know they will. And yes, I will tell you in the Capitol. There are ways of being discreet there."

She couldn't help the snort that escaped, and she rose to her feet again, not bothering to sweep the grass from her bare knees. "There's no such thing as discreet in the Capitol, Peeta. You should know that by now - you grew up there." She sighed, glanced over his shoulder to where the train attendant was eyeing them suspiciously. "No. I'm not waiting through this whole tour for you to tell me. In 11. I want to know in 11."

Peeta's jaw tensed, and she could see him running over the possibilities in his mind. "Fine," he finally said. "In 11. I'll find somewhere. But don't force me, Katniss. You have no idea what I'm risking by being honest with you."

"Risk?" Katniss could barely hold back her choked sob. "Everything I do is a risk, Peeta. You should know that by now." She spied the attendant begin to move down the stairs and she shook her head. "We should go inside. They're looking out for me. But before we do, I need you to answer me just one question."

"Anything."

"Did...did those kisses even mean anything to you?" She tried to keep the nerves from her voice, tried to keep it as steady and as unaffected as she could.

"Everything," he replied softly, and turned on his heel, heading back towards the open train door.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

* * *

Peeta wanted to go back to her, wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything, whisper in her ear that it was all going to be ok. He'd barely held himself back while they'd been outside, her sleep-loosened hair tumbling over her shoulders, the thin light blue camisole bright in the dark of the night, her eyes full of more emotions than he could count on one hand. But he had, because he knew, right now, she didn't completely trust him. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her, but he needed to gain back the trust that had stumbled the moment he'd revealed himself. He didn't blame her, couldn't blame her.

But it didn't mean that while he tossed and turned in his own bed, he wasn't thinking of her in hers, hoping that whatever nightmares had been plaguing her earlier hadn't returned.

* * *

Katniss allowed Effie to smooth a non-existent crease in her dress, watched Haymitch as he mumbled to himself, glancing every so often out of one of the windows to the crowd outside. She heard the click of the camera, and glanced over her shoulder to see Peeta looking at her. She still wasn't sure if she trusted him.

Still couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said to her before he'd left her outside last night.

"You ready?" Haymitch cleared his throat, tugged awkwardly on the hem of his vest.

"The sooner we start, the sooner it's over, right?" she replied, though she knew the words were as false as they sounded. _This would never be over. _

"Sure," he agreed. "After today, only ten more and the Capitol to go."

The thought made her sick, but she plastered on a smile and stepped from the train onto the dusty platform of District 11.

* * *

The shot echoed in her ears, even as the door closed, and Haymitch's hand gripped her upper arm like a vice. Feet thundered against concrete, shouts were quickly silenced.

"Wha-what was that?" Katniss stammered, eyes wide as she looked up into Haymitch's grim face. His lips firmed, and he glanced around them warily.

"Not here, sweetheart, not here," he muttered.

"But that man got _shot_," she hissed, her heart hammering in her chest. "I saw it. You can't tell me you didn't see that."

"I saw it as damn well you did," he retorted, his fingers tightening. "But we don't want everyone in this room to know we did. Shut the hell up." He turned to see a Peacekeeper striding forcefully in their direction, through the hustle and bustle of the interior of the justice building, and on a whim yanked on Katniss' arm, dragging her towards a corridor. She didn't argue, just followed, the pain welling in her chest as reality seeped in.

_Another person dead because of her_.

The twisting corridors of District 11's Justice Building proved to be in their favor, the Peacekeeper quickly losing them in the confusion that still reigned. She trailed Haymitch blindly up a set of stairs, higher and higher until he led her through a rickety ladder and pushed through a wooden door trimmed in cobwebs, slamming it down behind them.

She looked around her, taking in the sparsely furnished room in the dome of the building, items that had been long forgotten strewn about the room, the floorboards bare and scraped. It looked like it hadn't been disturbed in years. And judging by Haymitch's direct route for it, she assumed it was one that he knew of, and that the Capitol had no need to monitor. Did he remember this room from his own games?

"Haymitch, what's going on? Why did they have to shoot that man? What have I done?"

He shook his head, standing beside the small, half boarded up window, and glancing around the edge, down to the square below. "It all started the minute you rode in a chariot on fire, when you stubbornly refused to play their games. When you placed a wreath of flowers around that girl," he sighed. "You paid tribute to….a tribute. The Capitol doesn't care for that, sweetheart. District 11 just paid tribute to you. And the Capitol doesn't care for dissidence either. We're in trouble, sweetheart. We've got to tread carefully."

"But….how is that even wrong? She was my _friend_, Haymitch. One of the few I've ever had. She didn't deserve to die that way." Her voice dropped to a whisper as a sob caught in her throat, as her hands began to shake.

"And you're not the only one who thinks that; that's why the Capitol's scared. Panem is showing they think it's wrong, in the only way they know how - in public, with their actions. No matter the cost again."

The sound of running feet caused them both to start, and Katniss shrank back against the wall. _Would they get in trouble for being up here? Would they know what they were talking about? Would they_-

The door pushed up and open, and it was Peeta, his face red, his breath panting, a rivulet of sweat beading on his temple and slipping down his cheek. He closed the door behind him, taking one last look down the ladder before he did so.

"You guys are quick," he blurted, pulling the camera strap from around his neck and placing the camera on a dust-covered side table. He ran a hand through his hair, the mussed waves almost standing on end. "It is insane down there. I could barely get away."

"Shit, kid, what are you doing here?" Haymitch snarled. "What if someone had seen you?"

"You think I'm that bad at doing what I do, that people would see me? I know what I'm doing," Peeta snapped back. Katniss looked between the two, confusion set in her brow, in her eyes.

"I don't care that you know what you're doing," Haymitch retorted. "You're about as light footed as a bloody drunk in a bar."

"And you'd know-"

"STOP!" Katniss demanded, louder than she intended. They both turned to her, one glowering, one surprised. "A man just _died_ outside, and you're arguing like kids! What is going on?"

Haymitch opened his mouth to yell back, then noticed the shaking of her hands, the way her throat bobbed, the way her skin seemed ten shades lighter than its usual warm olive tone. He took a deep breath. "Nothing is going on."

"Nothing?" She hated the fact her eyes wanted to fill with tears. "I've caused another person to die. You two are fighting, and I don't understand anything you're saying and people are yelling downstairs, you're telling me that the people of Panem are angry and upset and paying tribute and..." her eyes widened as the realisation fell upon her, at the familiarity between the two men's interaction, and she turned her gaze fully on Haymitch, pointing at Peeta. "You know about him, don't you? You know he's not what he says he is."

The shock on Haymitch's face was evident, and Katniss was surprised. Haymitch was never shocked, never a step behind. But at this, he was. She watched as he whirled on Peeta angrily.

"You had one job, kid. And one of the elements of that was for her not to know yet. Way to screw things up."

"I had to," Peeta croaked, his face pale at the fury in Haymitch's voice. "It doesn't matter when Katniss found out. She should know." He looked over at her, his eyes full of apology. She didn't want to, wanted to look anywhere but him, but she couldn't help staring back. She was so confused, about everything. Except for how his gaze felt upon her, how she knew her stomach clenched every time he looked at her.

"Oh christ, this is all we need." Haymitch's jaw dropped, glancing from one to the other. "When the _hell_ did this happen?"

"What?" Katniss mumbled. He responded by flipping his arm in front of him, from her to Peeta.

"_This_. This…..whatever it is between you. I thought it was just _him_, but you too?"

Katniss felt the flame creep across her face - _she_ didn't know what the hell was going on, so she had no idea why Haymitch thought he did - while Peeta's eyebrows rose quickly.

"I thought Katniss had told you what happened between us," Peeta asked. "You treated me like shit on the train from 12."

"I treat everyone like shit," Haymitch snapped. "This is the last thing we need, you two looking at each other with puppy dog eyes, or this...ah, shit, I can't even say it." He threw his hands up in disgust and stormed back to the window. "This was the last thing we needed."

"What I feel for Katniss and what she - "

"Oh, _spare_ me."

"It doesn't matter," Peeta continued, as if Haymitch hadn't butted in sarcastically. "What's important is Katniss knows. And after that, what just happened out there in that square, it's more important than ever that she does know."

"Hold it," Katniss muttered, closing her eyes and holding her hand up in a halt gesture. "Haymitch, what have you been keeping from me? What haven't you been telling me?" Her eyes opened, the grey bottomless pools of hurt.

"What did the boy tell you?" came the reply.

She bit her lip until she could taste blood. "That there's a rebellion," she whispered.

His response was a short, sharp nod.

* * *

_**4 years earlier**_

_He knew it was risky, knew if he got caught he'd face severe punishment. Or worse, he'd disappear. He'd heard the stories of men never seen again; leave for their Capitol job one morning, never to return. Sure, it hadn't happened in years, but it had happened. Just like all those accidents out in the districts. Mine explosions, factory fires, the capsizing of a boat..._

_But it was worth it, he knew. Would be worth it if he could play even the smallest part in a rebellion._

_Peeta had heard rumours of clandestine meetings at a small café in the next quarter over, in hidden rooms that didn't see the light of day. He'd kept his ears open for years for something like this, from the moment he'd watched a 14 year old boy become a man in front of the nation. Finnick Odair hadn't been that much older than him, the first time he could remember someone that young winning the Hunger Games. And then he'd thought of himself, of how it would have felt if it had been him. Nothing about those games were right. Everything about it screamed at him that they were wrong._

_He'd brought up his breakfast in terror that day, and knew that, one day, he would do what he could to stop the Hunger Games, and everything associated with it. _

_He hoped today was the first step towards that, and opened the door to the cafe._

* * *

_"A baker is no use to us," Cressida said flatly, and Peeta felt his heart fall. It had taken plenty of convincing and a thorough body scan before he'd been allowed entry into the low lit room hidden behind a wall in the cafe kitchen. A dozen curious eyes had studied him with varying degrees of interest as he'd shakily taken a seat. He'd been here for over 2 hours already, pouring his heart out to the small, mixed group of people, about why he wanted to join the rebellion. He wondered now if it had all been nothing but a waste of time._

_"Now, now, Cressida. He said that's what his family does. Not him. What interests you, son? What can you bring to us to help the cause?" The portly, dark haired man beside the bald woman who had led him inside smiled genially at him, sitting back in his seat._

_"I..." Peeta felt the words he was so normally good at slip away from him, but then caught the eye of a man with warm brown eyes rimmed in gold. He nodded encouragingly at Peeta. "I'm an artist. I paint, I do some photography, I-"_

_"That's it," the brown eyed man said smoothly, interrupting Peeta. "Get him on a reaping production team out to one of the regions we have contacts in. Four. Send him out to Finnick and Mags. It's always so hard to get information out there." He turned to Peeta. "I'm Cinna, by the way. Making my way up the stylist ladder. With any luck in about 3 years I should be a tribute stylist and we'll have another 'in' there." Peeta smiled, thankful to this stranger who seemed intent on helping him._

"_Are you any good?" The older man - Plutarch, Peeta reminded himself - asked, as his eyes began to gleam._

"_I'm not too-" Peeta cut himself off as he saw Cinna shake his head infinitesimally, and straightened his shoulders. "Yes. I'm good. Very good. And if you want me on a team that goes to District 4 each year, then that's what I'll do. I'll do whatever training you need, whatever it is I'll need to know and learn to be an operative for the rebellion." Nerves were twisting his stomach into knots at what they were proposing - District 4, Finnick Odair, a damned spot in helping with the rebellion - and held his breath. If they said no, he was done. There would be no-one else to go to. He would have to turn around and go back to the way he'd lived his life for the last 3 years, a mask hiding his true feelings, nothing but pretending. _

"_Do you understand the risks you'd be taking? If caught, it could mean your life," Cinna said quietly._

"_If I don't get caught, it could mean I help bring about change in Panem," Peeta said firmly._

"_You could never tell your family," Cressida warned him._

"_I know. They won't be a problem." He clenched his hands in his lap, and waited._

_And waited and waited._

"_Alright then," Plutarch finally smiled, breaking the tense silence. He held out a hand, and Peeta took it, shaking it firmly. "Welcome to the rebellion, Peeta Mellark. I hope you're prepared."_

* * *

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

Peeta hadn't been able to tell her in 11. After the events in the square, and their ensuing conversation in the Justice Building, they'd had to return downstairs before their absence was noted. Peacekeepers stuck by Katniss' side constantly, barely giving her a moment to herself, let alone with Peeta, and he'd steadfastly refused to discuss it on the train. It had taken two more days for them to steal away long enough for him to explain - under the guise of photographing Katniss in the plains of District 9 - to give her a basic outline of what he'd done, where he'd gone, how he'd become involved in the first place.

"And Haymitch? When did he become involved?" Her voice wavered - this was what was going to hurt the most. If he'd been a part of the rebellion all this time and not told her... "Was it before my games?"

"I...I think that's a question you need to ask him," Peeta replied, lifting the camera and randomly snapping, for the benefit of any onlookers.

"So you're saying yes," she replied flatly.

"I'm not saying anything."

"Then why me? Why now? What makes me so special?" She stuck her hands in her pockets, wishing he would drop the camera and just talk. But she knew why he couldn't, knew he knew better than she did what they had to do to remain inconspicuous. If everything he'd just told her was real, he'd become a master of hiding the truth.

She wanted to hate him for it, but something in her blood thrummed every time he spoke of his work; his eyes became intense, his voice became impassioned; he practically radiated fire and desire and an almost painful need for change.

The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted him. The more she wanted him, the more she berated herself. The more she berated herself, the more she cursed him coming into her life.

Then she realised she would be oblivious, she wouldn't know a thing that was happening. And it would start all over again.

The burgeoning, constant need never wavered though.

"You didn't play their games, Katniss. And while you're not the most...charming person, you struck a chord. It started with Prim, and your relationship with Rue was your defining moment. We knew then that we finally had a catalyst. The districts hadn't shown any sense of feeling for a long time. You've fueled that." She watched as he took a few steps back, crouching in the grass and angling the camera up towards her.

"What.. what I did for Rue wasn't for show," she said quietly.

"I know," he replied. She hated that his eyes were hidden behind the camera. "That's what makes it all the more poignant. Panem may not know what to think of you, Katniss, but they know you're different."

"Different," Katniss repeated. She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that; she had never wanted to stand out enough to be seen as different. "And not charming." She screwed her nose up. Who wanted to be charming anyway?

Peeta lowered the camera, and smiled at her. "Well, I generally have a different opinion than most on that one," he told her.

"You think I'm charming?" Katniss scoffed.

"I wouldn't go that far…." he began, and she shot him a dirty look. He laughed, then immediately sobered. "You're more than charming to me, Katniss. I thought we'd established that."

"I don't know what to think after everything that's happened." She wrapped her arms around her waist, surprised at the chill that danced across her skin as the sun dipped behind clouds.

"I would never lie to you about something like that, Katniss," he told her firmly, and rose. "Come on. We should head back."

She nodded, and let him lead her back towards the fields edge, where two Peacekeepers waited. "Peeta, wait," she called. He turned, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"This is what you meant, back when we were outside the train. Wanting to see if I could do it. You want me to become part of the rebellion, don't you?" He studied her for a moment, before nodding.

"Yes, Katniss, we do," he replied, and continued on his way. She had no choice but to follow.

* * *

District 9 became District 8, and soon District 7 felt like a distant memory. Moments alone, even for Katniss and Haymitch - for her to find out more from him, to understand the extent of his involvement in the rebellion - were few and far between.

Katniss' nightmares increased the closer she got to the Capitol, the more she faced the families of her fellow tributes. She spent her nights fighting off sleep for as long as she could, until finally it would catch her, drawing her into its clutches and into the dark recesses of her mind that wanted to torment her.

"You look like shit, sweetheart," Haymitch commented over dinner as they left the outskirts of District 6. She bit into a roll, and scowled at him, even as Effie reprimanded her on her table manners.

"Thanks, because you're a shining example," she retorted.

"No, seriously," he replied, shovelling more food into his mouth as he looked at her closely. "Are you even sleeping?"

She ignored him, studiously focusing on her food, and how many green beans she could spear with her fork. She didn't want to admit to him that sleeping was something she did because her body forced her to, not because she wanted to.

"Fine," Haymitch sighed. "Don't answer me."

She stubbornly stayed silent, refusing to catch anyones eye. Peeta knew - he'd seen the evidence of it, caught her in the throes of a nightmare - and deep down she knew Haymitch would understand. He'd probably experienced exactly the same thing, but it didn't make it any easier for her to admit to. Her nightmares were hers, and hers alone. She didn't need to burden anyone else with them.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, as Effie outlined their schedule in District 5 in the trains screen room, as Haymitch made lewd comments he knew would make Effie blush, as Peeta sat at a small portable monitor and studied photos he had taken in District 6 and 7. If Katniss sat on the long sofa at a certain angle, she could see the screen, see the images he'd captured of her. She didn't want to be curious, but she also couldn't help but want to see them. What did Peeta see in them when he looked at them? Did he see Katniss Everdeen, Girl on Fire? Did he see Katniss Everdeen, a girl with a scarred heart? Or did he see something else completely, something that only he could, something she could never understand?

She had to stop thinking about it.

Midnight soon came and Haymitch and Effie retired for the night, bickering as they walked down the corridor to their rooms. She watched them go, knowing it was inevitable that she would have to retire to her own room soon. She glanced over at Peeta, still engrossed in his photos, then back at the wall screen, and the ridiculous Capitol programme Effie had left on after she'd finished with their schedule. Maybe, if she just sat here, and waited until Peeta went to bed, she could put sleep off just a little bit longer….

_He smiled at her, his hand trailing down the length of her hair. She didn't wear it out often, it was too impractical, too...girly. But something about the way he'd looked at her when she walked out of her room with it unbound and trailing over her shoulders, had made her reconsider. Maybe she would wear it out more often._

_She leant into him, welcomed the press of his lips against the delicate skin of her neck, revelled in the shiver it sent down her spine, into the pit of her belly. His fingers danced across her collar bone, slid down her shoulder, down her arm before resting on her hip. She inhaled sharply and shifted closer, so that thigh brushed against thigh and her breast pressed against his chest. She glanced up at him, and couldn't help but think how blue his eyes were, but how much she wished she could see their real colour. This blue was just too bright and pure to be real._

_Blue. Black. Brown. Red. The change was abrupt and startling._

_Their eyes chased her across the field, their breath heavy and deep enough that she swore sh could feel it on the back of her neck, fear overtaking her like tendrils of smoke crawling over skin. _

_She could hear their whines, and their whines became growls and then became voices. She heard the dark haired one first, snarky and bitter, followed by the blonde, light and airy and full of giggles. She didn't know what was more disconcerting; their eyes or the human voices that had begun to emanate from them._

_She ran and ran and ran, but this time she wasn't fast enough. They leapt on her, teeth nipping at skin, claws tearing at her clothes, weight from their paws bearing down on her. She didn't care. She was happy to let them - she was done, finished. A few minutes of pain would become welcome relief from this life - after all, how would she ever live with these scars? She whispered a goodbye and a sorry to Prim - then looked up in horror at the warm brown eyes that hovered over her, jaw gaping open, sharp teeth bared, blood and saliva glistening. It couldn't be Rue, couldn't be Rue, couldn't be-_

"Katniss." The voice was soft, steady and silky against her ear, and she startled awake, her hand rushing to her face. It was soaked in sweat and tears, but it was still there, still intact. She looked up into Peeta's terrified eyes, and averted her gaze.

"I fell asleep," she whispered. "I tried so hard not to." She glanced back up at him, her brain slowly registering the fact that Peeta was beside her on the couch, his arms around her and her hands gripping the front of his shirt. She released her hands, finger by finger as cramp set in. "How long was I out for?"

"Half an hour," he croaked, slowly easing back. "You were fine, even had a smile on your face, and then you started thrashing and shaking and I started to come over, but you stopped. You went completely still, and your whole body relaxed." He stopped, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "And then...and then you started screaming and babbling and I couldn't wake you up, and..."

"And?"

"And then I just whispered in your ear, and you came out of it," Peeta said quietly. She bit her lip, and looked away. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No." Her reply was blunt.

"But-"

"No," Katniss repeated. The end of her dream was bad enough, but the faint memory of how it started terrified her just as much. She glanced at the luminescent clock that glowed on the wall. "I should go to my room." She began to move off the couch, lowering her bare feet to the floor; Peeta shifted, then practically leapt from the sofa to catch her as her knees gave way. He shook his head, tucking one arm under her knees and the other around her back, effortlessly lifting her into his arms.

"You're not walking anywhere," he told her firmly, and ignored her initial protestations. But as he walked her down the corridor, his chest firmly pressed against the side of her head, the slow in and out of his breath steadying her own, her arguments died on her lips. He was warm, so warm, and everything inside her settled, calmed. He smelt like cinnamon and something else she couldn't place, but whatever it was, it comforted her, made her feel safe. She didn't even realise that she fitted herself to him more securely as they went along, that she settled her cheek against the curve of his neck and breathed him in, lulled by his closeness.

Katniss vaguely noted, in a state somewhere between sleep and wake, that he pressed the button to open her door, that he gently laid her down on the bed, and the door swooshed closed behind them. What she noted with perfect clarity was the loss of his warmth as he stepped away, as he left her alone.

"No!" She said abruptly, and quickly turned to face him, her arm flinging out and gripping onto his wrist.

"Yeah?" Peeta said gently.

"Will you...will you stay with me?" She whispered. "I don't want to be alone right now." She watched as his eyes softened, as he expelled a deep breath. He nodded, and slid in beside her, on his back, but careful not to touch her. He drew the soft quilt over them, though she barely paid any attention. She reached a hand out, touching her fingers to the back of his wrist, feeling his pulse beat under the pale skin. Katniss was asleep before she heard his spoken reply.

* * *

He waited until her breathing had evened out, once she'd slept, undisturbed, for at least an hour. He'd watched her, watched the way her eyelids fluttered, the way her fingers clenched and flexed, the way she clutched at the pillow, hugging it close to her.

Peeta gently pulled his arm from underneath her hand, and waited to make sure she didn't wake before stealing from the room. He moved down the corridor quickly, opening the door to his room and going immediately into his bathroom. He knew they weren't monitored - it was the one room they could ever be guaranteed privacy in - and had been careful to only receive notifications in there. He pushed the button on the shower, water streaming from the spout, pounding against the tiles.

He sat on the floor with his back to the wall, and pulled a small, portable comm from his pocket, noted the video message he'd known had come through half an hour earlier. He pressed play, watched as the screen flickered and static crossed the screen before an image filled it. His heart dropped as he realised it was himself and Katniss, that first night on the train. _Shit. He hadn't even thought of the cameras, hadn't even been thinking about this happening. All he'd been thinking about was making sure Katniss was ok._

It played through, one minute of edited footage from that night. He watched as he woke her, as she told him to leave, and she crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around him. He breathed a sigh of relief that his whispered words to her were not picked up by the listening devices, and watched as she stared at him after he told her, as she lifted a hand to her mouth, then as she bolted from the room.

The video faded, before an image of Plutarch appeared. His mouth was grim, but his eyes danced with - amusement? He wasn't sure.

"Peeta, you need to be aware this footage was almost seen by President Snow. We are lucky enough to have a man on the inside on the night shift at the feed centre who caught this before anyone else. You need to be careful, Peeta, as we can't always guarantee he will be on shift." He paused, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "I cannot stress the importance of this mission. While this may add an _interesting_ element, shall we say, to our plans, you need to tread carefully, Peeta. One mistake, and everything can tumble. Be careful," he warned again, before looking off to the side, as if someone had entered the room he was in. He nodded at the person before looking straight down the barrel of the camera again. "I'll be in contact when I can. In the meantime...enjoy being in the first throes of love, son. Just don't let it cloud your judgement." With a firm nod, Plutarch pressed a button on his desk and the screen went blank.

Peeta didn't even notice.

He was too busy wondering when and how a simple captivation had turned into love. And how Plutarch Heavensbee had realised it before he had.

* * *

A/N - Thank you to all of those who enjoyed the first part of this story, and encouraged me to write more. I hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

_**1 year earlier**_

_The beeps were low but steady, in time with the beating of his heart. Even from this side of the room, he could hear them as if the machine was right beside him, as if he was the one hooked up to it. But he wasn't._

_Mags was._

_He didn't know her full name. No-one did. She'd just been Mags for as long as anyone had known her. And as she was Panem's oldest living Victor, no one questioned it, or her. The districts revered her; the Capitol ignored her, and the way she'd let age creep in with no regard. She didn't care about the lines, the wrinkled skin, the grey hair that frizzed over her shoulders. Peeta had heard her say more than once she revelled in it - the obvious signs that she'd aged, beaten the odds, survived when so many others hadn't._ _Now, hooked up to a machine in the sterile white room, he worried if this was the end for her._

_He shouldn't have even been there._

_It was the day before the Reaping, and he'd arrived to begin setting up for the broadcast. While he was primarily the photographer for the day, he'd immersed himself into the production over the years, getting involved and learning everything he could. It also helped him access areas he normally wouldn't be able to._ _And connect with Finnick Odair._

_They'd met at Peeta's first Reaping in 4. The man had smiled at him at their introduction at the Mayor's house, shook his hand firmly, and thanked him for becoming involved. To the casual observer, it wouldn't be out of place - Finnick Odair, being polite to a Capitol citizen. But Peeta knew it was more than that; he was talking of rebellion._

_He had requested time to take some portraits of the Victor, and as Panem loved the raucous, golden man, Peeta had quickly been given permission by Snow's advisors. Two hours, and a photo session on a small dock later, Peeta knew everything he needed to know about Finnick and Mags' part in the rebellion._

_He'd gotten to know the two victors well in his short times in 4, and on the odd occasion they travelled to the Capitol. He could count Finnick as a true friend, and Mags had become like a beloved aunt._ _He supposed that's why he was so distraught at seeing her here, lifeless and silent._

_The stroke had been sudden, unexpected. It happened two days prior, but news of it had been quickly silenced by the Capitol. __Nothing should overshadow a Reaping__. But it had spread like wildfire through those a part of the rebellion, worrying for the health of one of their staunchest allies._

_"I didn't expect to see you here." Finnick had stepped up beside him quietly, and Peeta cursed himself. He was supposed to be on alert at all times; he hadn't even heard the door to the room open. "It's dangerous for you to be here without purpose. Someone could see you."_

_"I had to come," Peeta said simply. "Has there been any change?" Finnick shook his head, and Peeta could see the strain clearly on his face. "How is Annie dealing with it?"_

_"Like she does everything," Finnick replied humourlessly. "She's hurting. Mags has been there for her - more than I can ever be. She's…broken."_

_Peeta reached out an arm, resting it on Finnick's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Right now he knew words wouldn't suffice._

_"I hate that no one is allowed to know," Finnick suddenly muttered fiercely. "Her family don't even know. They've been told she's travelled to the Capitol for a group of Reaping functions."_

_Peeta's mouth dropped open, horrified. Her family didn't even know she was ill, and all because the Capitol didn't want their precious showpiece overshadowed._

_"They don't know?"_

_Finnick shook his head, dropping his voice, though both knew they didn't need to. This wing of the hospital was for Capitol visitors and the elite. And in their pride, it wasn't monitored - they would never expect traitorous words be spoken by their own. "It happened while we were meeting with the new escort we have, in the Justice Building. They whisked her off here," he gestured around the small, private wing of 4's top of the line hospital, "And told her family she'd been called away immediately to the Capitol. They know something's wrong. I just... I can't risk telling them. Who knows what they would say?"_

_"And we're not ready for that yet."_

_"No. We still don't have our catalyst, Peeta. And as much as it pains me to say it, Mags and her family aren't it."_

_Peeta nodded in agreement. Though he wondered just how long they would have to continue to wait for something - or someone - to inspire Panem to rebel._

_The beeps echoed as he walked from the room._

* * *

"And _that_, Katniss, is Finnick Odair."

Katniss screwed her nose up at the bronze haired man who held court with a group of ladies in the middle of the Great Hall of the Justice Building in 4. He smiled, and laughed, gently caressed the cheek of one woman, then whispered in the ear of another.

"He is delectably charming, but very much a ladies man." Effie was still blathering away, though it was more of an insistent buzz in Katniss' ear. She didn't care about the man - she'd seen him on Capitol broadcasts over the years, and had heard more than enough of his womanising ways - nor did she care about anything to do with this party. The celebration in 4 was just another in a long line of Victory Tour celebrations, and she was tired and emotionally drained. She wasn't sleeping, and facing family after family of her fallen co-tributes haunted her every minute of the day.

Peeta's presence wasn't even a comfort; she'd barely seen him since she'd fallen asleep beside him as they left district 6. Not even the thought of his chest under her ear as he carried her to bed or the fast-fading memory of his lips on hers could distract her.

No, at the moment, all he was, was a reminder of his purpose.

_We want you to join the rebellion._

"But in all honesty, I've heard he's simply marvellous in b-"

"Dammit, Effie, knock it off, would you?" Haymitch sighed, approaching them with a flute of bubbling purple liquid in each hand. He didn't offer either of them to anyone. "Katniss doesn't need to hear that."

"I know she doesn't _need_ to, Haymitch," Effie huffed, then abruptly shifted her head, raising her hand in a wave as her eyes landed on a man in a lime green suit. "Excuse me, I must go and speak with Julius. I haven't seen him since the Games!" With a bright smile Effie sashayed away, her lemon yellow swathed hips swaying with each step she took.

"You wouldn't think she's part of this, would you?" Haymitch muttered around the rim of the glass as he held it to his lips. Katniss turned to him, eyebrows raised incredulously.

"Effie too?" She hissed, and he had at least the decency to flush.

"Er, yeah, sweetheart. Well….to a limited extent, anyway. Did I not mention that either?"

"Seems a lot of things you never mentioned," she retorted, snatching the second glass from his hand and swallowing it in one go. "If Peeta hadn't told me would I have ever found out?"

"I was waiting for the right time," he snapped.

"When? Right between next week and never?" She shook her head, shoving the now empty glass back in his hand. "I want to go. How much longer do I have to stick around?"

"Hours. The Mayor hasn't even done his speech yet. And you know they expect dancing."

Katniss winced. She hated dancing, hated it with every fibre of her being. And on this tour, it just made her feel as if she was dancing on other peoples graves. _Look at the fun I'm having. Look at how I'm still alive. Look at how you're not._

She felt sick.

"I...I have to go to the bathroom," she muttered, the bubbles from the drink gurgling in her belly, mixing with her guilt, twisting her insides into knots.

"You're not gonna vomit are you?" Haymitch grimaced.

"Like you've never face planted in your own bile, Haymitch," she mumbled, holding a hand to her mouth. "Just...where are they?" He grabbed a hold of her elbow and led her through the room, pushing her through a teal blue door decorated with - absurdly - topless women with fishtails for legs. She stumbled over the smooth pearl coloured tiles, and practically fell into a thin stall at the end of the row, the door slamming behind her. The liquid she'd barely finished swallowing came up, scorching her throat, searing her stomach. She retched until her belly was empty, until her pulse had steadied and her head felt light.

_4 more stops, Katniss. 4 more stops and you can go home._

She pulled herself up off the ground, using the door handle to steady herself. She opened the door, taking a quick glance around the bathroom lobby to ensure she was still alone, and crossed to the sinks, a row of gleaming porcelain dishes topped with gold-edged mirrors. Fish and tridents and curlicues that resembled breaking waves were carved into the frames. She focused on her face, the way the colour had been lynched from her cheeks, the way flyaway tendrils of hair had come loose of the complicated updo it had been twisted into, and were stuck to her forehead and neck.

With a sigh, she splashed water on her face, cupping her hand under the faucet to gulp down some of the cool liquid to remove the taste from her mouth. The sooner she got out there, she figured, the sooner she could dance, the sooner she could go back to the train, and they could be on their way to Three.

She rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen some of the tension that seemed to rest itself on them permanently, and moved toward the door, yanking it open. Only to find Finnick Odair leaning lazily against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor, a faint smirk on his face. If she thought the outfits she had to wear were ostentatious, Finnick's midnight blue silk shirt, tucked into slim pants the colour of fog were the complete opposite. Until you took into consideration the shirt draped open to his waist and the belt that looked like pure gold circling the waist of his pants.

"There she is," he drawled. "Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire!"

"Here I am," she sighed, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes. "And you're Finnick Odair."

"Ah, my reputation precedes me," Finnick grinned. "Nice to meet you, Miss Everdeen. It's certainly...a pleasure." His tongue rolled around the end of the word, drawing it out.

This time, the eye roll happened before she even realised it.

He pushed away from the wall and stepped towards her, digging his hand into his pocket before removing it again triumphantly and holding it right in front of her face. She blinked rapidly, trying to determine what it was. "Want a sugar cube?" She raised an eyebrow in surprise.

_Had he really just asked her if she wanted a sugar cube? _

"I think I'll be fine," she replied with an edge of sarcasm.

"I'm sure you will," he grinned, and popped the shimmering white block in his mouth, sucking on it until his cheeks were hollow and his lips popped. "So, our already sweet enough victor. I think it's only fair we take a turn around the dance floor, don't you?"

She scoffed, and moved past him, back down the hall towards safety, where the other guests were still mingling. _Where the hell was Haymitch?_ But Finnick moved with her, easily keeping up with her hurried stride. "I don't dance," she snapped.

"Now, now, that's a bold faced lie," he laughed, a soft, strangely arousing sound that felt like it danced along her skin. "I've seen you at all the other parties on the Victory Tour, Katniss Everdeen. And I refuse to miss out on dancing with the loveliest woman here."

"I'm fairly certain you already have enough women to choose from," Katniss retorted as they stepped into the open room. His fingers encircled her wrist gently, causing her to look up at him in annoyance. She opened her mouth to snap at him, but at the look in his green, blue - _whatever they were_ - eyes, she stopped. "Fine," she sighed. "Once, for the cameras."

"That's what they all say, and then they change their mind," Finnick said slyly, before tugging on her hand and drawing her into the centre of the dance floor. His arm encircled her waist easily, the other hand twining itself with hers and holding them just above his heart.

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes, but obligingly rocked her feet from side to side. At least he was leading, and she didn't have to put much thought into it.

"You've taken Panem quite by storm," Finnick said lightly, his hand tightening around her hip as they stepped around a couple drunk to distraction. "I must say, I was more than excited about the possibility of us...connecting while you were in 4."

"Not interested, Odair," she said bluntly, and couldn't help but think of the quiet steadiness of Peeta, and how she preferred it to the blatant sexuality of Finnick. "I've seen how you work, I've heard the rumours."

"Oh really?" Finnick asked lazily.

"One pretty woman after the next? A wake of sighing hearts behind you? No thank you."

"Well then," he said smoothly. "What about secrets then? I love hearing peoples secrets. They certainly keep me occupied. Want to share a secret with me, Katniss?"

_That was it_. Yanking herself from his arms, she stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. "I have no secrets. I'm an open book."

He smiled, stepping close to her, dropping his head until his mouth was close to her ear. If anyone looking on took a second glance, all they would see was two Victors in an intriguing embrace. "On the contrary, you have plenty of secrets, Katniss, and I plan to learn quite a few of them." He moved back, letting his hand linger on her arm for a moment longer before it dropped to his side. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Everdeen. I'll see you around." With a final grin shot over his shoulder, he walked away, already surrounded by a gaggle of women. Katniss stood, almost in a sense of shock.

In the corner of the room, she caught a glimpse of Haymitch, and stormed over to him before she could second guess herself. "I'm going for a walk. I can't be in here anymore," she mumbled. He looked at her carefully before nodding.

"Don't go too far, sweetheart. You know they'll look for you if you do." She nodded half-heartedly – she'd be on her way back to 12 in an instant if she could – and headed for the glass doors that lined one wall, slipping through them quickly onto the terrace, and down the stone steps that led from the building. If there was one thing she appreciated about 4, it was the Justice Buildings' close proximity to the beach, to the ocean. For someone who had never been exposed to either, the sight had bewildered her as she'd see it for the first time earlier that afternoon. She'd barely been able to concentrate on the palm cards that held her Capitol-approved speech, distracted by the clear blue colour of the water, the foam that edged the waves, the golden biscuit shade of the sand.

It was that direction she headed, kicking off the flats Cinna had her wear, and dangling them from her fingertips as she stepped onto the beach for the first time. It was rough and smooth all at once, and she swore she could feel every individual grain against her skin. Thankful that the dress she wore only hit her knees, she made her way across the sand towards the waters edge. The lights from the Justice Building – and town – grew dimmer the closer she got, and the reflection of the moon deepened across ripples as she reached where water lapped at the sand.

She stepped forward, her toes sliding into the cool water. It was like the lake, but it wasn't. It was a little rougher, not as calm, and the smell of salt filled the air. There was nothing for miles in front of her, just an endless black abyss. Being here made her think of the first time she'd seen Peeta back in 12, how he'd stood out in sharp relief to the blanket of white snow and she'd likened him to a beacon in a darkened sea.

He was so much more than that.

Fighting the urge to sit on the waters edge - Effie and Cinna would kill her if she got her dress wet - she instead walked up the beach just a little further to an old wooden jetty, lowering herself to the soft dry sand. Her back rested against the rough splinters, but they didn't bother her. It felt real, and if she closed her eyes and pretended the sound of the water was wind rustling through leaves, she could almost, _almost_ imagine she was in the woods back home.

She heard the breathing before anything else, and froze. It could be anyone, _anything_, and even now, on a deserted beach in district 4, her first instinct was to go for her bow. Without shifting too much, she slowly opened her eyes. Two pylons away sat Peeta, his back against the wood, his knees drawn up casually in front of him. He was completely shrouded in shadow, and if it wasn't for the fact she had such keen eyesight, and her ears attuned to the slightest change in sound - _thank you, Capitol -_ she wouldn't have had a clue he was there.

"Did Haymitch send you to find me?" She asked bluntly, hesitant to look in his direction.

"No," came the startled response. He paused. "How did you know I was here?"

"I just did," she shrugged. "I'm a hunter, remember? I'm good at...finding things when they don't necessarily want to be found."

Katniss heard him expel a deep breath. "Don't make it obvious that you're talking to someone. They'll still be watching you."

"Nothing different," she countered, but nodded slightly. She dropped her head so she was looking at the ground, tracing patterns in the sand with her finger. "You've been avoiding me the last two days. Is it because I haven't given you an answer about the rebellion yet?"

Peeta didn't reply immediately, and she was worried she'd overstepped the mark. Just because they'd shared-

"No," he finally sighed, interrupting her inner ramblings. "I...My assignment coordinator sent me some footage. That's why I followed you out here. I needed to tell you."

"Tell me what? What footage?"

"Of the train. Of us. On the train. That first night."

Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered that first night, of her crawling onto his lap, of resting her head against his pounding heart, of him telling her about the rebellion...

"Oh no, Peeta, do they know?" She asked fearfully. _Had she ruined all his meticulous plans by going on instinct and doing the only thing she could think of doing at the time?_

"No," he assured her. "The footage was intercepted by an insider before it could be viewed. But….." he trailed off, though he didn't need to say any more. Katniss had already connected the dots, and knew he was thinking of the night she'd asked him to stay with her.

_What if President Snow had seen that?_

"I need to keep my distance from you, Katniss," Peeta said quietly. "I can't allow what happened on the train to happen again. Ever."

The combination of fury, anger and hurt hit her like a slap to the face. It was almost irrational.

"Ever? That's a bit final, isn't it?" _Why was she even worried about that? Why should it even bother her? In a matter of days he'd return to the Capitol and she'd never see him again. Unless….._

"Ok," Peeta acquiesced, "While I'm still undercover. I can't risk this, Katniss. I can't risk the rebellion this way. Even if…"

"Even if what?" she bit out.

"Even if I want to. It's been killing me the last couple of nights not to be able to come to you when I heard you cry out. But I just…..can't. I may have already risked things as it is, if Snow or one of his advisors has seen that other footage."

"But….If you have a man on the inside, couldn't he watch out at night, or change the footage or…." She trailed off, angry at herself for feeling so needy, for the fact she was arguing with him about whether he could sleep in her bed. For the thought of him not being able to come in to her if she had nightmares feeling like a nightmare itself. Hated that even in such a short time, she'd somehow become reliant on him.

"I can't guarantee he'll always be on shift. It's just too dangerous. The rebellion has been in the works for longer than either of us know. It's...it has to be a priority."

Silence fell between them, the water hitting the beach and the wooden pylons the only sound. She set her jaw, knowing deep down her anger was misplaced. He was just doing his job; after all, wasn't a new Panem more important than her?

She hated that part of her was selfishly thinking otherwise.

Finally she heard Peeta sigh, the crack of a knee as he stood. "You should go back, Katniss."

She nodded curtly, rose to her feet without bothering to brush the sand off her skirts. She didn't glance back as she stalked back up the beach to the Justice Building.

* * *

Peeta watched her go, watched as she stomped barefoot across the sand, barely stopping to slip her shoes on as she reached the stairs. He'd selfishly wanted her to turn around, so he could get one last glimpse of her, but she was stronger than that, he knew. She didn't need to see him.

He'd kept to the edges during the party, a long range lens doing his work for him. She'd looked so serious - or disgusted - for most of the night, and at one stage had looked downright ill. Haymitch had marched her quick smart to the bathrooms, thankfully, but he'd been surprised when she'd returned with Finnick in tow.

Peeta hadn't been able to help the grin that spread across his face when he saw the way she looked at Finnick - mostly disdain, with a little bit of utter confusion. Finnick was the best actor he'd possibly seen in his life. He was, in short, the perfect double agent. He hoped if - _when_, he corrected himself positively - Katniss joined the rebellion, she would be able to see the real Finnick. The one dedicated to a better Panem and a willowy brunette who had snuck up on him.

It had hurt like hell to tell Katniss that; to tell her he couldn't maintain the familiarity they'd established over the last couple of weeks. It was ridiculous, really, how much he'd allowed himself to grow attached to her.

_Fall in love with her._

But he'd known it was the right decision, and he knew that no matter how angry and upset Katniss was right now, she would come to the same realisation. He also knew, despite his protestations to Haymitch that they needed to be honest with Katniss, holding back on the communication he had received that afternoon directly from the Capitol had been the right thing to do. Giving Katniss the implication of trouble was one thing; confirming it was another. Peeta swallowed heavily as he ran over the words of the memo in his head again, as a rumble of thunder in the distance sounded forebodingly.

_Mr Mellark,_

_Congratulations on a successful assignment so far. We commend you on the images you have submitted and your ability to draw our latest victor out of her shell. _

_Your attendance is required at a meeting with President Snow immediately upon your return to the Capitol. Transport will be available to you at the train station._

_With favour,_

_Augustus Faulkner_

_Secretary to President Snow_

And as he'd never had a direct communication from the president's office, it only meant one thing to him. _Danger_.

He needed to be careful.

* * *

_**6 months earlier**_

_Peeta looked up at the giant screen that dominated one wall of the function room. Katniss Everdeen looked awkward, uncomfortable, as Caesar Flickerman gently asked her questions about her time in the arena, coaxing hesitant answers from her. She looked radiant and sweet and….young in her soft yellow gown._

_He seemed to be the only one watching._

_He'd been lucky to get admission to this, the event held especially for the Capitol's elite and a select few previous Victors – those deemed 'appealing' enough – to celebrate the end of the games and watch this years' winner discuss their journey from Tribute to Victor. But everyone else was too focused on the buffet, and eyeing off those they hadn't slept with yet to pay attention to the screen. Peeta had already had to brush off the advances of a voluptuous blonde with stars tattooed across her cheek and pink streaked liberally through her hair._

_Tonight was one of his highest profile jobs so far, and he'd been thrilled when he'd been advised. It meant his work was being recognised, he would have the chance to connect with Plutarch and Finnick without having to resort to secrecy….and he got to stare at Katniss Everdeens face without shame. After all, wasn't that what everyone was supposed to be here for?_

_Lifting his camera, Peeta studied the room until he had a shot he liked, changing angle, changing the aperture until it was perfect and he clicked. He pulled the camera down, studied the image on the small screen._

"_Now that is a nice shot." Plutarch's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and Peeta turned, smiling genially. It was hard to not be familiar with the man – after all, this was really the first time they were supposed to have met. Cressida was, by all accounts, his official employer. _

"_Thank you, Mr Heavensbee," Peeta replied smoothly. He stuck out a hand. "It's nice to meet you."_

"_And you, Mr Mellark. I've heard some wonderful things of your photography. I understand it is garnering a lot of attention."_

"_I'm humbled by it," Peeta replied. He glanced around him, noticed that no-one was paying them any attention. Even the blonde had turned her charms to Gloss from District 1, her hand drifting to places on his body that really shouldn't be drifted to in a public environment. He couldn't determine by the look on Gloss' face whether he was enjoying it or not._

"_Any news?" he mumbled to the older man under his breath. "I've heard murmurs, but nothing concrete."_

"_She's it," Plutarch replied simply. He took a deep swallow from the large glass he carried. "The districts are responding to her. Volunteering started it."_

"_The little girls' death fed it," Peeta surmised, thinking sadly of the young girl from 11 whose death had hit Katniss so hard. Plutarch nodded. Peeta felt his heart pound excitedly; after all this time, maybe, just maybe, they had traction. "What do we do? What's the next step?"_

"_We need to get someone to her, feel her out, see what she thinks of the Capitol without blatantly telling her there's a rebellion going on," Plutarch muttered. He smiled widely and laughed, as if Peeta had told a great joke. "She's not going to trust another Victor. I'd try to get Mags to meet with her, but she's still recovering."_

"_How is she?" Peeta asked. He hadn't been able to get a moment with Finnick so far this evening to ask, no matter how many times he'd tried. There had always been some socialite attached to his arm._

"_Physically? As fine as someone her age can be. It's her speech that's affected. The only person who seems to be able to communicate with her is Finnick. I know for certain if I send him with Mags to speak with Katniss, the meeting would be a dismal failure. And her hearing it from Haymitch could be a bad move. They'll be watching him just as closely as they'll be watching her. We may have to leave speaking with her until the next time she's in the Capitol."_

_Peeta was silent for a few moments before it hit him, the idea almost swallowing him whole. "Send me," he whispered. _

"_What?" Plutarch asked, confusion on his face._

"_You know they send a photographer to the Victor just prior to the Victory Tour. Send me. I can speak to her."_

_Plutarch studied him, and Peeta knew he was being closely scrutinised. Even after being involved in the rebellion for as long as he had, people still saw him as just a kid. This was his chance to prove them otherwise. He just had to be given the opportunity._

"_I can't just give the assignment to you, Peeta," Plutarch finally sighed. "It needs to go through the proper channels, the proper course of action needs to be discussed and approved. You need to earn it."_

"_And I haven't over the last few years?" he argued._

"_Not enough for some," Plutarch said simply. "I'm all for it. I think it's a sound idea. But prove yourself. Work hard. Campaign with Cressida. If you're meant to do it, it will happen." He slapped a hand on Peeta's shoulder jovially, his voice rising a few notches. "Ah, yes, yes, our Victor is a good one this year, no doubt. It was good speaking with you Peeta!" He smiled, then walked away, leaving Peeta with a resolve to do whatever he could to get that assignment across the line._

* * *

Thunder clapped, sending a rumble through the stillness of the train. It yanked her from her nightmares, pulling her from the grip of Cato's hands to the tangle of her sheets. They were soaked with her sweat and her tears, and she pushed them away so that they landed in a heap on the floor.

Katniss stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain lash against the window, watching the flashes of lighting that snuck through the blinds play across the room as she willed her heart to slow. It hadn't taken long after their arrival back on the train for her to fall asleep, just as it hadn't taken long for the nightmares to overwhelm her. They never did.

She thought back to the night Peeta had laid beside her, the reassurance of his skin under her fingertips and the quiet sound of his breath lulling her to the best sleep she could remember having in...well, since the moment Primrose Everdeen had been called. But now even that had been taken away from her.

Pulling herself up into a sitting position, she slipped her feet into the flat slippers an Avox habitually laid out for her every night, pulling on a thin robe the colour of mint leaves. She stole from the room, only slightly hesitating outside Peeta's door when she saw the light still shining under the slim crack at the bottom of the door. She continued down the corridor, through the buffet car - already half set up and prepared for breakfast, the silverware and china just waiting for the food to be laid upon it - out to the back car of the train. She couldn't use the retractable roof, not while it was teeming down with rain, but the wall to ceiling windows suited what she needed right now.

She needed to be as close to the outdoors as possible.

Lying flat on her back on one of the plump couches, she wrapped herself in a cashmere throw and watched the rain fall towards her; the trees fly past in the darkened night. Her thoughts drifted to Peeta's announcement, how they – whoever 'they' were – wanted her to become a part of their rebellion. To do what, she still wasn't sure. What could a 17 year old girl from the "wrong" side of the tracks ever do to make Panem a better place?

Either way, it was probably time she began asking questions. She'd gone on in the dark long enough.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate all the reviews, follows and favourites, they fuel the muse when it's being a bit snarky and uncooperative ;)**

**You can find me on tumblr at sponsormusings, where you can find snippets from my wips and reblogs of...pretty things. Like Europe. Or Jhutch...**


	4. Chapter 4

The day was bright and sunny, the sky a bright shimmering blue, puffed marshmallow-like clouds dotting the expanse. The buildings gleamed, smooth silver and polished glass, and the late afternoon sun bounced off the panels like diamonds glinting in the light. It was a perfect photo opportunity really. Except for one thing.

Haymitch Abernathy strolling towards him, cursing at him through his viewfinder.

"What the hell did you do now, kid?" He demanded without preamble.

Peeta lowered the camera, raising his eyebrow as he turned to Haymitch. The mentors eyes were tired, his lips curled in a scowl.

"I think you'll have to be a little more specific," Peeta replied calmly. He looked straight ahead, studied the crowd that filled the square in District One. They were abuzz with an odd combination of excitement and anger, markedly different to the other crowds they had already visited along the way. Anger that a lowly girl from District 12 had beaten their carefully selected and trained tributes; excitement because this was a Victory Tour, and it was expected. One _never_ did anything to displease the Capitol. He glanced at the complicated watch on his wrist. "Should you even be out here? Katniss is expected out for her speech soon."

Haymitch shrugged. "She isn't scheduled to come out for another 15. And they don't need me in there with Effie assing about. Figured I'd come and find out what the hell you said to Katniss to piss her off so much and make her hole up in her room the last few days."

Peeta swallowed heavily, but continued to look out around the square. It was set up much like District 4 in layout, so he had a decent idea where microphones and cameras were set up. He figured they were safe.

"I...I said that we needed to keep a distance," he finally muttered. "Plutarch contacted me and advised that they'd managed to intercept some footage of us on the train before it got into the wrong hands. I told her we couldn't afford for the Capitol to see anything like it, that we couldn't allow them to see us together. That it could affect the rebellion if they did."

He felt Haymitch sizing him up. "Footage on the train?" He queried, though there was hesitation in his tone. "What _kind_ of footage?"

Peeta glanced at him, noting the almost abject horror on his face, and shook his head frantically. "No! No, nothing like that. There were just two nights in her room when she couldn't sleep and I was there for her. Completely innocent. But I can't afford any additional scrutiny, can't afford to risk the progress the rebellion has made if the Capitol decides to monitor me because of the time I spend with her. As much...as much as I want to."

Haymitch shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around him before turning back to Peeta. "Bullshit."

Peeta's eyebrows flew up. "What?"

"You heard me. _Bullshit_. Yes, yes, the rebellion. Sure, it could mean Snow's men look at you a little closer. But if you're as good as I'm led to believe, you'll come out clean as a whistle. Now c'mon. I didn't win a Hunger Games by chance, kid; I know that's only part of the reason. Tell me the side of the story you _didn't_ tell Katniss."

_Dammit_.

"Finnick," he finally admitted, and he watched as Haymitch's eyes darkened in understanding.

"They won't get their hands on her," he growled.

"That's the plan," Peeta agreed. He let go of the camera so it hung loosely around his neck. "But they'll look for anything - any angle, any way to exploit. She's beautiful, Haymitch, and if we're not careful, they'll break her down and do to her what they're doing to Finnick. If she seems...more desirable in any way, they'll get ideas. And I can't have that. Not at all. I won't let it happen."

"So instead you push her away, and she spends the rest of the tour shitty and scowly and damn well unpleasant."

Peeta flushed. "I- I suppose. I didn't think she'd be that affected by it."

"Affected? Ha! She almost poked my eye out with a fork this morning," Haymitch scoffed. He rubbed a hand across the grey-flecked stubble that covered his chin, and his voice softened. "Look, she's had a hard life, kid, had to grow up quicker than she should and lost people she loves. You put a look in her eye I ain't never seen. She won't admit it, will probably scoff if asked, but it's true. Just...don't push her too far away and make her think she's gonna lose you too."

Peeta opened and closed his mouth, words escaping him. _He thought he'd been doing the right thing on all accounts_ - _maybe he'd been wrong. But what alternatives did he have?_

"I just don't want to lose this rebellion we're planning...and don't want her to be lost to the Capitol," he finally murmured.

Haymitch shook his head. "She won't be. I'll make sure of it. We all will. We were too late for Finnick. We won't be for her." He turned to go, fingers already twitching for the flask in his pocket.

"President Snow wants to see me when I get back to the Capitol," Peeta admitted in a rush, stopping the older man. "I've never been summoned before. I can't think of anything else it would be about; either he saw us on the train, or he knows I'm a turncoat. I need to make sure I can talk my way out of it either way."

"Then you'd better be damned prepared to lie your ass off, kid. Who knows what the old man wants. Until you know for sure, quit your stressing." Haymitch glanced at his watch. "I'd better get back because I'm fairly certain Effie will be having a conniption by now. Somehow, make things right with Katniss. I'm sure you can figure something out. She's gonna need all the friends she can get."

* * *

District 1 disappeared behind them, a faint shimmer of lights in the distance as the train travelled further and further away. Katniss didn't pay it any attention, instead focusing on pushing the small cookies around the china plate on her lap, and ignoring Effie's pleas for her to eat her food, rather than play with it. She hadn't asked for it, had just had it placed in front of her as she sat in the screen room, exhausted as Effie ran over the schedule with herself and Haymitch for the day ahead. It was the biggest, and most important one yet.

"Effie, I know what I'm doing, ok?" she sighed finally after another miniature lecture from Effie on punctuality.

"I _know _you do, dear, but we must simply ensure things go perfectly," Effie replied primly, consulting the tablet that sat on her lap. "I'll need you awake by 5.30am, and I know how _ghastly_ that time of the day-"

"It's fine. I'll be awake," Katniss assured her. _You need to be asleep to worry about waking up on time_, she thought.

"Very well then," Effie nodded, uncrossing her legs and rising to her feet. "I must go to bed, these bags under my eyes from not having at least 9 hours of sleep a night are really not doing me any favours. Good evening." She tottered out the door and down the corridor, faintly murmuring to herself of eye masks and injections.

Katniss raised her eyebrow at Haymitch, and slid across on the couch closer to him. "Involved, huh?" she asked dubiously. She couldn't understand how anyone that Capitol-esque could even consider rebelling.

"To a degree," he mumbled back, crunching on a bit of ice that he'd sucked up from his glass. "I'll tell you in 12."

"It feels like a long way away."

"It'll be soon enough."

She lowered her head, obscuring her face with a waterfall of hair. "I want to know everything you know," she said quietly.

"I know."

"I'm…..thinking about it."

"I know."

She pushed her hair back behind her ear and turned her head, studying him. Haymitch didn't blink an eye. She should have known he wouldn't be surprised. They did understand each other, after all. More than probably anyone else did. It was probably why they butted heads so often.

Probably why she didn't know how she'd ever get through this without him.

* * *

They pulled into the station, but Peeta didn't need to look out the window to see the crowd, or hear the screams and whistles and yells. They were deafening, even through the heavy walls of the train. They were back in the Capitol.

_He was home._

"Quite a reception," Cinna said beside him softly. They had barely had a moment to speak while on the tour, Cinna occupied most days and nights in the dress car, refining and refitting Katniss clothes' to suit the changing weather and her shrinking frame. The stress of the tour had taken its toll, and the weight she had gained since she had left the arena had dropped from her in a week. It had pained him to see, but no amount of coaxing from anyone had been able to force any more than a few bites of food past her lips in a long while.

"As always," Peeta replied. "The Capitol loves its Victors."

"Mmm," Cinna replied noncommittally. "Will you be travelling back to 12 with us, or staying on in the Capitol?"

"I'm unsure. It depends on whether they're happy with the images I've provided so far. I'm meeting with President Snow immediately after we disembark, so he may advise me then."

He could see Cinna's eyebrow raise from the corner of his eye, but the stylist didn't say a word. At least now two people from the Rebellion knew of his meeting with Snow. Who would have an idea of what happened to him if he was never seen again.

"Well it's been a pleasure working with you on this tour, Peeta," Cinna said softly. "Perhaps we could work together again in the future?"

"I would be honoured," Peeta replied, and meant it. Professionally, or with the rebellion, Cinna was a good man to have onside.

The sound of feet moving down the corridor caused them both to turn, and they watched as Katniss appeared, a vision in white and pale blue. Cinna smiled and moved towards her, fixing an errant piece of hair and picking at an invisible piece of lint on the shoulder of the simple dress she wore.

"Perfect. Sweet and simple. We'll wait to dazzle them tonight at your interview, then at the mansion, yes?" He told her, and the smile that graced her lips didn't meet her eyes. Peeta noticed she didn't once glance in his direction, and it cut him to the bone. Not that he expected any less. She was just doing as he'd asked.

He picked up his camera and prepared to follow her out.

* * *

"Mr Mellark?"

"Yes?"

"The President will see you now."

Peeta nodded and rose to his feet, careful to keep his nerves hidden. He'd managed to capture a dozen photos of Katniss disembarking from the train before he'd been approached by a man in a simple black suit - such a rarity in the Capitol - and ushered into a sleek, pearl white car. He'd been in President Snow's elegantly appointed waiting room ever since.

He followed the woman with legs as thin as toothpicks and hair a pale lavender down a heavily carpeted hallway and through heavy wooden doors with the seal of Panem carved into them. Snow sat behind a wide mahogany desk, resplendent in a jacket of deep forest green, a simple white rose tucked into the breast pocket. He nodded regally, and indicated for Peeta to take a seat, waiting until his assistant had left the room.

"Thank you for arriving so promptly, Mr Mellark. My sincerest apologies at keeping you waiting. It seems we have a little...issue in district 8 that I need to remain appraised of."

"Oh?" Peeta said innocently, lowering himself into the high-backed - and decidedly uncomfortable - wooden chair across from Snow. "There didn't seem to be any issues when we were there on tour."

It was a bold-faced lie. He was well aware of the attempt to overpower the Peacekeepers by the people of 8. It obviously hadn't gone to plan.

"No, I suppose it would have seemed that way," Snow said cryptically. He waved a hand impatiently. "But enough of that. I wanted to commend you on the photographs you have supplied this far. They're very good. Certainly some of the most inspired Victor portraits in a number of years."

"Thank you, Mr President," Peeta replied humbly.

"You seem to have quite...a connection with our victor, Mr Mellark. She's not an easy one to bring out of her shell, yet you do it almost effortlessly." Snow glanced at a tablet on his desk, pressed a button delicately, and suddenly an image of Peeta and Katniss lying side by side in her bed filled the wall beside him. _Shit. _"Miss Everdeen seems to have very little issue with you, which is clearly the polar opposite reaction she has to most of my citizens." His beady eyes bore into Peeta. "What can you tell me of this? I am certain getting this close to your subject wasn't on your job description."

Peeta coughed lightly, determined to act as naturally as possible. "The girl had a nightmare when she fell asleep in the screen room," he said blithely. "I was there to bring her out of it, and she asked me to stay when I helped her to her room. I thought it only fitting I complete the request of our current Victor. "

"Hmmmm," Snow replied, leaning forward slightly in his seat. "Katniss Everdeen seems to be interested in you, whether she wants to or not. Am I mistaken that there is not some kind of...attraction between the two of you?"

"She's very pretty," Peeta admitted carefully. "She doesn't have the...personality or charm of some of our previous victors, but I'm certain she can overcome that with time."

Snow rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers together and regarding Peeta carefully.

"She doesn't have charm, Mr Mellark, you are correct there. But she has...something. You're not interested in her romantically? Not attached to her?"

_Oh Katniss, I'm sorry. I don't mean this._

"I will admit there is a physical attraction, but she's not the friendliest of women," Peeta reiterated, hoping what he was saying would give Snow pause in selling her off, if he was considering it. "So no."

The smile was slow, snakelike and almost venomous in its delight. "This is good to hear, Peeta. Because I have a proposal for you that could be _very_ beneficial. For both of us."

* * *

The dress was black, slim panels of white and red and purple blending over the bodice in intricate swirls, capping her sleeves like feathers, the skirt partially sheer from mid thigh to the floor. Part of her hair was braided and wrapped around her head, her make-up dark and dramatic - a vast difference from when she stepped from the train that afternoon to face the ecstatic and enthusiastic crowds.

It had been sheer madness, the ebb and flow of bodies around her as people tried to get close. The citizens of the Capitol loved her, the Girl on Fire. She was the current craze, and she'd been surprised to see the image of her mockingjay on pins, on fascinators, even tattooed on peoples cheeks. She'd gripped on tightly to Haymitch's hand as Effie led the way gaily through the crowd to the car that waited to take them to the Training Centre, and she'd only wanted one thing. What made her feel safe in a city full of people she didn't understand. What she hated wanting.

Peeta had been nowhere to be seen.

She'd already finished her interview, had sat on the stage while Caesar played to the audience, smiled grimly when prompted, answered politely when required. She'd talked through the last 6 months, had given her one and only genuine smile when she spoke of Prim and of Parcel Day. And when Caesar finally wrapped up the interview, she'd breathed a sigh of relief. After tonight, she was no longer on show.

But she still had to get through an evening at the Presidential Mansion, and the likelihood that she would encounter Snow was high. Their last encounter still haunted her.

_..._

_Snow reached up, placing the crown gently on her head. The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes, their cold, deadly gaze piercing her, before dropping to the pin Cinna had placed at the neckline of her lemon yellow dress at the last minute._

_"A very unique pin you have there, Miss Everdeen," he said, his voice smooth and cultured through over-plump lips._

_"It's my district token," she replied bluntly._

_"Yes it is. A mockingjay. A strange token, don't you think?"_

_"Not at all. It's perfect really. Something that overcame all odds to still exist? Not strange at all. The odds were in their favour."_

_"And the odds were in __your__ favour indeed." He folded his arms behind his back genially, smiling for the cameras that were close enough to catch his image but not his words. "Do you think they always will be, Miss Everdeen?"_

_Katniss swallowed heavily, noted the change in his tone, in his manner. It was predatory._

_"I hope so," she replied quietly._

_"Don't we all."_

_..._

"Katniss?" Cinna's soft, modular tone broke through her reverie, and she shook her head, clearing it of her thoughts.

"Sorry," she apologised, still feeling the gaze of those eyes on her, even from months away. "I-I..." she trailed off, and didn't pull away when Cinna wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. She burrowed in, breathing in the gentle, faintly woodsy scent she knew he wore habitually.

"You're going to be fine tonight, Katniss," he said softly. "We'll all be there every step of the way. You've already gotten through the interview, it's just the banquet now. You're almost home, and then you don't have to worry anymore."

Katniss nodded against his chest, careful not to smear her make-up; she wasn't sure she could handle her prep team anymore today. They'd been pepped up on the excitement of being back home and had chattered non-stop as they readied her for the interview. The headache that had pounded behind her eyes ever since was the result.

The door to Katniss' room opened - she'd been given an hour reprieve in between the interview with Caesar and her appointed arrival time at the mansion - and Haymitch leant against the jam. "Almost ready sweetheart? Thought you might like to come up on the roof, see the sunset in the Capitol one last time before we leave for the Mansion." He looked at her pointedly, leaving her no room to argue.

Katniss stepped away from Cinna, looking at him apologetically. Haymitch surely wanted to speak with her of things the Capitol didn't need to hear, and the last thing she wanted was to involve Cinna. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he said smoothly. "I might just come and watch it with you." He smiled and nodded his head slightly; in that moment, she knew.

He was part of the Rebellion too.

* * *

They were all silent. The only sound was the tinkling of the wind chimes behind her, the faint rustling of branches as they stood in a group near the edge of the roof. Cinna and Haymitch stared at Peeta incredulously, just as she assumed she was. She couldn't believe what he'd just announced.

"So what you're telling me," Katniss said slowly, trying to make sense of the hurried words Peeta had spilled. "Is you're asking me to pretend. To make the Capitol believe I'm in love with you." Her eyes narrowed. _This was ridiculous. Hadn't she sworn off love? Even if the man standing in front of her made her question that every day since she'd watched him on that porch roof? _

Peeta rushed a hand through his hair, the waves standing on end. "Yes-no-I...shit, Katniss, please don't turn this on me. I'm trying to do what I can to save you. You're in trouble, more than we thought. You have them running scared, but they need a way to keep the people pre-occupied. His way of doing that is this star-crossed lovers of Panem shit. You're the most popular Victor since Finnick Odair. They need to play on that, need to use you to overshadow any rumblings of discord." His arms dropped limply to his sides. "And anyway, from Snow's perspective, he's asking _me_ to pretend. Not you."

Katniss grit her teeth in frustration. "And that's supposed to mollify me? That it's _you_ who has to 'pretend'?" She raised her fingers in quotation marks sarcastically.

"Katniss, let Peeta speak," Cinna said gently. "You can't take this out on him."

"Who else am I going to take it out on?" she snapped, before turning back to Peeta. "What exactly did Snow say to you?"

She listened carefully as Peeta outlined precisely what Snow had laid out to him. There were rumblings in the districts of rebellion that the Capitol had so far managed to subdue. Katniss had fed the simmering undercurrent that had been burgeoning for months, her actions of volunteering out of love and not duty, her sympathy and acknowledgement of other districts and tributes and her downright disdain for the Capitol making a mockery of the President and all he stood for. It was Peeta's responsibility to draw her into a relationship, keep Panem pre-occupied with a love story until they could snuff out any hints of rebellion. He would be offered the permanent position of official Capitol Photographer as his reward.

Snow hadn't said any more, careful not to speak too ill of a Victor in front of a relative stranger. But Peeta could feel the undertone, could sense what it was Snow was _really _telling him. And he had already been fed enough information through the rebellion to know where Snow's real concern lay.

The Capitol didn't care for mercy, or compassion, or the questioning of their practices. Katniss Everdeen had stared down the barrel of a camera and practically pledged allegiance to Panem - minus the Capitol - with a three-fingered salute. Her final mercy killing of Cato after his tumble from the Cornucopia had been the last straw in Snow's eyes. And despite her permanent scowl and the charm Haymitch had once upon a time likened to a dead slug, people responded to her, were drawn to her. Even Capitol citizens who, always looking for new entertainment, had gone wild for her voice, the one that made birds stop to listen and that had accompanied Rue to sleep. He knew, as one of them. They were enamoured.

_They had stopped to listen._

Snow was worried of her accidental influence - Panem's spark had to be extinguished, her spirit crushed, before she spread like wildfire. And only then would Snow determine what to do with Katniss Everdeen.

"So Snow is aware of the smaller rebellions in the districts, but not an all-encompassing one? He doesn't realise how deep it runs?" Haymitch queried as Peeta finished.

Peeta nodded. "It seems that way. He only called me in because he saw an opportunity to use Katniss as a distraction. Talk up a romance, get the Capitol citizens to focus on that, rather than murmurs. He's hoping it will catch on in those districts who have an allegiance to him, that they'll be caught up in that instead of getting any 'ideas'."

"And the romance angle?" Cinna asked.

Katniss watched as he rubbed his eyes wearily. "Snow saw footage of Katniss and I on the train. I thought he'd found me out, but he doesn't see me as anything more than a young, vapid, Capitol kid with an eye for pictures and a pretty girl, and as a means to an end. I suppose he could be playing me right now...but I can read people pretty well. I don't think he is."

Haymitch folded his arms across his chest. "I'm surprised he confided anything in you, asked you to become involved, for someone he'd never met before," he said thoughtfully.

Peeta nodded. "That's his Achilles heel, his pride, his arrogance. Plutarch has mentioned it, many times. If Snow sees a use for you, he'll use you. I don't think it's entered his mind that his own Capitol citizens could have already turned on him."

"You really don't think he's playing you?"

"Subtle isn't Snow's game. He told me exactly what he wanted me to know. And I have no doubt that if he had the opportunity, he would tell Katniss face to face exactly how much trouble she was in."

Katniss felt the tell-tale quiver of nerves in her stomach, then saw Haymitch nod hesitantly. "You're right. It sounds like him." He turned to Katniss, jaw clenched. "Looks like your show won't be over tonight. A long-distance romance seems to be on the cards."

Katniss fisted her hands by her sides, angry - no, _furious_ - that Snow was doing this. _Would she forever be on show for this nation? Would she forever be doing things to make people she didn't even care about happy? Primped and prodded and rolled out like one of those beauty queens she saw on Capitol TV? _

None of it mattered. She studied the three men that surrounded her, all willing to step up and risk their lives for a better Panem. When it came down to it, a romance with Peeta was not a hardship - she could do a lot worse. And it wasn't as though she wasn't drawn to him, because she was; more than she wanted, more than she understood. This situation just blurred the lines for her, made her unsure of what to truly think or understand. Was it the right thing to do? She still didn't know.

"Will this...will this help the rebellion?" She finally asked. She waited until Peeta looked at her, until he caught her eye.

"Yes," he said simply. "We can turn his own plan on him. If Snow is looking at us, he won't be looking at the others; he seems oblivious to the bigger picture, like Haymitch said. Inroads could be made. More plans put into place. And it keeps you safe, as safe as we can keep you." He rested his hands behind him on the edge of the roof, his eyes boring into Katniss'. "Are you going to help us, Katniss? Help the rebellion?"

She thought of Prim, knowing her name would be in that reaping bowl for another 5 years. She thought of Gale, of the way his family continued to struggle year after year. She thought of Rue, of Thresh, of their families as they'd stared up at her from the crowd.

"Ok," she replied, shoulders straightening, her voice strengthening. _Even if she didn't completely like it, even if she was worried she was being played for a fool, she'd do it. She'd do it for Prim. _ "Yes, I'll help. I'm gonna do everything I can to cause all sorts of trouble."

She heard Haymitch chuckle from beside her. "Atta girl, sweetheart."

* * *

The Mansion was even more extravagant than she'd expected. Fairy lights lit the path that led to the front entrance, pale blue tiles cut across pristine green lawns to create walkways. The building itself towered above her as she made her way to the front door flanked by Effie and Haymitch, four stories of gleaming windows, gilt-edged window frames and stone balconies.

Inside it was a shining example of excess, a perfect juxtaposition of where she'd grown up to where she was now. It would have been no surprise to anyone that, if asked, she would have bluntly advised her preference for the little wooden structure in the Seam she'd called home for 16 years.

The banquet hall itself was like nothing she had ever seen before. The ceiling soared twelve metres high, and through some kind of fanciful imagery, had been transformed into a glittering night sky. Groupings of plush sofas dotted the room, helping revellers rest their weary feet and mingle and flirt without having to move an inch. And the food spread out before her put the other galas during the tour to shame, and any other event she had attended in the Capitol since she'd won.

Table upon elegantly appointed table piled high with every food imaginable - soups and sweets and cured meats, platters laden with steaming purple vegetables and bowls full of red berries. One table carried a huge roasted pig, complete with requisite apple in its mouth, but it didn't even draw a smile from her in memory. Giant silver goblets filled with ruby-red wine were carried, slim glasses with a golden hued liquid were clasped before a hurried escape from the room.

Her appetite returned with the knowledge she was going to make a stand against the Capitol, Katniss wanted to eat it all, and not waste a bit.

She made her way around the room, nibbling at a pastry here, sipping at an zesty orange soup there, but she was never alone. Effie and Cinna and Haymitch all spent time with her, guiding her around the room, making small talk with the guests who tried to speak with her. Her prep team cornered her at one stage, their excited chattering reminding her of the headache that wouldn't completely go away. She'd been horrified when they'd explained the use of the golden liquid, but had not argued when they'd left her in peace to go and drink and purge themselves of their overabundance.

"Hello Katniss."

She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath. She'd been waiting for him all night, just as they'd organised on the roof. She supposed there was no better time like the present to get this charade underway.

Katniss turned, pasting a smile on her face as she faced Peeta. It wasn't what she was expecting, wasn't expecting the smoothly coiffed blonde hair, or the impeccable black suit he wore - or how good he looked in it. She was thankful that, for once, he didn't have his camera around his neck.

"Hello Peeta. It's nice to see you," she replied. "Do you have a night free from being photographer?"

Peeta smiled, a genuine grin that showed two rows of perfectly white teeth, his incisor tooth slightly angled. It was that that Katniss held onto, that small piece of visible imperfection that made him all the more real. "I do. But I couldn't ignore the invitation to attend, not with you here." His words were smooth, and perfect for anyone who might be overhearing their conversation. It just reminded her how good he was at his job. "Now that I've arrived, I wondered if you wished to dance?"

Katniss struggled with her instinctive response of no, knowing there were at least 5 pairs of eyes around them watching their exchange with interest. Peeta was still relatively unknown to the Capitol elite. Katniss was as close to Capitol elite as a non-Capitolite could get.

"Ok," she replied simply, trying not to choke on the word. She hesitantly rested her hand in his, and allowed him to lead her to the middle of the dance floor. He pulled her in close, much closer than Finnick had, one hand on her back, the other holding hers tightly. She couldn't ignore the pounding of his heart that she could feel so clearly against her chest. The slow movements, the faint hint of cinnamon, the warmth of his body against hers, caused her to sigh quietly. She hadn't realised how much she had missed such close physical contact, she thought, closing her eyes as she rested her head against his chest. Sure, Cinna had hugged her just hours before, and Haymitch had held her hand as they'd fought their way through the crowd from the train.

But this was different on so many levels.

The hand on the small of her back was warm, and comforting, his fingers playing gently against the soft fabric of her dress. Peeta's breath blew softly against her hair as he rested his head against hers. She could almost, _almost_, pretend this was real. But she knew it wasn't. And she wasn't sure what she hated more; Peeta pretending that it was real, or _her_ wishing it was real.

Katniss yanked her head up abruptly, stiffening in his arms as he continued to try and sway with the music. It only made him hold on to her tighter.

"Katniss, what's wrong?" he asked quietly. Even on a dance floor filled with drunken Capitolites, he had to be careful.

"Nothing," she snapped. She jerked her hips away from him so the gap between their bodies was tangible.

"It doesn't _seem_ like nothing," he retorted. He pulled her in close again. "You're acting like someone who doesn't like me very much."

"Maybe I don't." Her voice was biting, and he visibly winced. She knew it wasn't his fault, that she'd agreed to it. It still didn't make it any easier to bear.

"Please don't, Katniss. I didn't want it to be this way either."

"You made that very clear when you drew a line in the sand in 4. Rebellion or nothing." They both danced in silence for a moment. Frustration radiated off Peeta in waves.

"That's not what I said," Peeta muttered through clenched teeth. "I said we needed to keep our distance from each other, because I was worried about the rebellion….but I was also worried about you. Your safety is paramount to me, and to everyone else on your team, and after today it was made pretty evident by Snow that you're not necessarily safe." He reached up, rested a hand lovingly on her cheek which, if they'd bothered to pay attention to those around them, drew a soft sigh from the crowd. "You have to believe me, you have to trust me."

She scowled. "I don't understand all this 'keeping me safe' business. I know Snow is angry at me, but what can he really do to me? I don't care about 'me', Peeta. I care about Prim. My family and friends back in 12. They're the only ones I'm concerned about. They're the reason I'm doing this."

He drew her in closer, dropping his head so his mouth rested against her ear. He swayed them gently to the music. "They won't hurt you in ways people can see, Katniss," he said softly. "They have other ways of hurting you, and we're doing all we can to prevent it." His words sent a shiver down her spine, but she kept her face lowered as she responded.

"What do you mean? Can you stop with all the secretiveness and just tell me?"

His fingers clenched against her back, and she felt him inhale deeply. "Ok, Katniss. You really want to know?"

"I want to know."

"Finnick isn't with those women - or men - from the Capitol by choice." He said it abruptly, almost forced the words out as if they were painful to say. Her brow furrowed, confused. And then realisation hit.

"No," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Yes," Peeta replied simply. His fingers dug into the small of her back. "I don't want them to do that to you, none of us do. I'd hoped keeping my distance would help with that."

"Instead you have to do the opposite." She could barely wrap her mind about what he was saying, let alone understand the enormity of it.

"It's the best scenario I could have hoped for. Snow did me a favour. If you're with me, you're not with anyone else." His hand drifted up her back, along her shoulder, slid into her hair behind her ear, twisting his fingers lightly in the strands that remained free of her braid. "I'd prefer it that way. I'd prefer it even more if it _could_ be real."

She closed her eyes, still weighed by his words. It didn't help that her heart felt like it was being twisted in two and her belly was full of knots. "I thought you must have been tired of me. That when we spoke in 4, it was your way of getting rid of me."

"I've told you many times Katniss, that what I feel is real," Peeta whispered. "Everything I've said to you is the truth, about how I feel, about keeping you safe. I want _you. _And nothing Snow asks me to do will change that. It's all a game to him. It doesn't have to be that way with us, not if you don't want it to be..."

She opened her mouth to respond, but found she didn't have the words. Not right now. She still had too much to absorb. So she did what she did best; she used her actions to reply.

Katniss lifted lightly on her toes, pressed a simple kiss to his lips. It was nothing like the one they'd shared in 12. It didn't have the passion, or the frustration or the insatiable need attached to it. This one held a promise, a gentle acknowledgement that they were in this together, even if, for the moment, it may have been just for show. And for the first time in a week she felt safe. Comforted.

"Ah Miss Everdeen, Mr Mellark. I do _hate_ to interrupt such an unexpected and sweet moment."

At the sound of the voice, she no longer felt either.

* * *

_A/N - Thank you for reading, for your follows and favourites and reviews! You can find me on tumblr at sponsormusings :)_


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